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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27298264">Sly Cooper Drabbles</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelBrachypelma/pseuds/Primarina'>Primarina (PastelBrachypelma)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sly Cooper (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A/B/O, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst, Babies, Blind Date, Blood, Blood and Injury, Comfort Food, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorders, Fluff, Food, Food Kink, Found Family, Gen, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Mild Blood, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Omega Sly, Omegaverse, Parenthood, Reflection, Self-Reflection, Sharing a Bed, Sickfic, alpha Carmelita, platonically sleeping together, sly's parents are dead and it's very sad</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:55:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>28,913</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27298264</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelBrachypelma/pseuds/Primarina</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Some assorted Sly Cooper drabbles. Tags, characters, and relationships will be added as needed, but there will NEVER be graphic violence or Major Character Death, so never fear!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>(mentioned) - Relationship, Bentley/Penelope (Sly Cooper), Murray (Sly Cooper)/Original Character(s), Sly Cooper/Bentley/Murray, Sly Cooper/Carmelita Fox</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. You’re so Warm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You’re really warm,” Bentley leaned into Sly’s side, yawning. </p><p>Sly snorted. “I have a high fever. ‘Course I’m warm.” He shivered. “I wish I could feel it, though.” </p><p>“CANON BALL!” Murray shouted, diving into the bed and bouncing Sly and Bentley around. “Did somebody call for warmth? Because “The Murray” makes an excellent space heater.”</p><p>“Technically,” Bentley said, pushing his glasses up his nose, “we should be trying to keep Sly as cool as possible, so his fever goes down.” Now that Murray’s energetic entrance had snapped him out of his cold-blooded stupor, he was ready to tend to Sly if need be. They only had this cabin for another week, and then they needed to be out of the country. It hadn’t been a vacation so much as an opportunity to do some skiing for a bit of fun, and gathering some new winter supplies, but Sly had caught the flu on the third day, and was still recovering. </p><p>“But Murray’s warm,” Sly whined, curling up against Murray’s side and settling in against the hippo’s chest. Murray pulled up the blankets and tucked Sly in around his shoulders. The raccoon yawned, blinking blearily at Bentley. “C’mon,” he beckoned, holding out a furred palm, “there’s room for one more.”</p><p>Bentley sighed. “I suppose my cold-blooded body may provide you with some counter-balance to Murray’s body heat, at least until I warm up.” He rolled his eyes fondly. “And you won’t stop pouting at me until I join you, right?”</p><p>“Uh huh,” Sly confirmed, grinning. </p><p>Bentley tsked, but took Sly’s hand and get into bed beside his friend. Murray put his arm around Bentley’s shoulders, too, and Bentley tilted his head to lean against Sly, who kept fidgeting, trying to get comfortable. </p><p>“I brought us ice cream,” Murray announced. “I dunno what kinda flavor this is meant to be, but it looks good!”</p><p>“Ooh,” Sly sat up, impressed. “It does look good! What’s it called?”</p><p>“Moose tracks,” Murray recited, neatly scooping some into little styrofoam bowls for them all, handing the first one to Sly, then passing one to Bentley before settling in with his own. </p><p>Sly moved carefully into a more upright position, grimacing as his muscles ached, and Bentley took advantage of this to fluff up Sly’s pillows so he could sit up better. The raccoon put the spoonful into his mouth, rolling it around on his tongue before crunching into the little peanut butter cups with a grin. “Mmm...this was a good choice, Murray! I approve.” </p><p>Bentley took a bite himself, feeling a shiver go down his spine as the cold spread through his body. But he couldn’t deny that it was good. “I agree. This is delicious!” It was also good to see Sly eating something. They’d picked this lodge because Sly had thought some of the food looked good, so it was too bad he’d been too sick to enjoy most of it. </p><p>Murray grinned, flicking on the TV. He gave Sly the remote, and they settled in with their ice cream. </p><p>After flicking through a few channels, Sly nudged the clicker away. “I can’t decide what to watch.”</p><p>“You okay, Sly?” Bentley asked, leaning over to glance at his friend. “How’s the vertigo?”</p><p>Sly shook his head slowly. “Not vertigo. Fever. Can’t pay attention, really.” </p><p>“Oh, yeah, I get like that when I’m sick,” Murray commiserated, taking Sly’s bowl as the exhausted raccoon lay back against his pillows, shivering again. “Nothing sticks, and my brain feels like jello.” </p><p>“Mmhmm, yeah, my brain does feel like jello,” Sly agreed, reaching out to pull Bentley to his side, recoiling a bit. “Nnh. You’re cold!” He accused. </p><p>“Reptile,” Bentley said smartly, snagging the remote. “I think I saw a documentary a few channels back. Should put you right to sleep, Sly.”</p><p>“Hey, I like documentaries sometimes,” Sly argued, shifting around a bit until Murray settled in closer. </p><p>“I know,” Bentley said gently, patting Sly’s knee. “I was just saying that documentaries are usually rhythmic-sounding, the narration smooth and even. You can drift off easier.”</p><p>“Unless it’s interesting,” Sly smirked, tugging the blankets up around his shoulders and nuzzling into the pillow.</p><p>“Here, pal,” Murray settled the pillow on his stomach. “You can lie there, if it’s more comfy.”</p><p>“But Bentley…” Sly murmured, curling his tail around himself. </p><p>Bentley obligingly got over the covers next to his friend. “I’m right here, Sly,” he said in a low voice, running his hand gently up and down Sly’s spine. “Close your eyes and rest.”</p><p>Sly hummed, closing his eyes. After about thirty minutes of fitful dreaming, the sickly raccoon settled down into a deep slumber. </p><p>Bentley glanced over at Murray, who pressed his hand gently against Sly’s forehead. “I think he’s sweating out the fever,” Murray said. “The ice cream helped.”</p><p>“I bet it did, Murray. Thanks.” Bentley smiled. “I’m glad he’s getting some rest. I think stress was a big factor in his getting ill.”</p><p>“I think so, too,” Murray admitted. “And he forgot his flu shot.”</p><p>“That’d do it,” Bentley agreed with a soft laugh. Seeing Sly relaxed made him feel sleep as well. He yawned again, sliding down beneath the covers. “Think I’ll just...close my eyes for a second…”</p><p>Murray chuckled, careful not to jostle Sly too much, and leaned over to get Bentley’s glasses as the turtle fell asleep. </p><p>Finally, his hardworking friends were getting some well-deserved rest</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Based off a tumblr prompt “you’re so warm.”</p><p>Idk what to say about this one. I like platonic cuddling, I like the gang, I like sickfics, and I like ice cream. </p><p>Moose Tracks is seriously good. Y’all should try it sometime.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. You’re So Yummy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh, look at you,” Sly purred, licking his lips. “You’re so yummy, aren’t you? Mm...you smell amazing! I can’t wait to get you in my mouth.”</p><p>“Ew, gross, Sly. Stop sweet-talking the food,” Murray complained, bustling past the raccoon as he deftly flipped over one of the flour tortillas sizzling on the griddle. </p><p>“Sorry, sorry,” Sly slid backwards out of Murray’s way. “I’m just hungry. We haven’t eaten this good in weeks!”</p><p>The gang had been lying low in a little slum town, waiting for local police to get off their tail. It had been difficult living off of rations from their previous heist. Murray had been forced to keep Bentley and Sly from tearing out each other’s throats, due to the two of them getting extremely hangry between meals. </p><p>“I know. I’m excited, too,” Murray agreed. “But hearing you talk to your food makes me uncomfortable.” </p><p>Sly rolled his shoulders, conceding the point. “I’ll get outta your way while you finish, big guy. I need a shower.”</p><p>“Thanks, Sly,” Murray smiled gratefully. He liked cooking; it was how he relaxed, as opposed to tinkering, or going out doing thief stuff like his friends. But he considered it a solitary activity. He liked the freedom to move around the space without worrying about who or what was in it. </p><p>The bean burritos were cheap and easy enough to make. Once the tortilla were lightly toasted, he was going to lovingly pour beans, vegetables, sour creams, and lots of cheese (at least on his and Sly’s; Bentley had a dairy sensitivity that didn’t allow him to enjoy cheese) into the center, carefully folding them like origami. They’d been living on the bare minimum, and this was a perfect way to celebrate coming into a little money. </p><p>As he began to assemble the burritos, he heard Bentley’s wheelchair. “Something smells good.”</p><p>“I hope it’s as tasty as it smells, then,” Murray replied, turning to grin at Bentley. After leaving Venice, he’d apologized properly to Bentley and gladly spent the last week or so pouring over articles and resources that Bentley gave him. He was beginning to understand things from the turtle’s perspective, and felt ashamed by his actions, even though Bentley forgave him. </p><p>“I think they will,” Bentley replied. They both looked up as they heard the water shut off and Sly came into the room in pyjamas, looking wet.</p><p>“What?” Sly shook himself as Bentley and Murray turned away, grunting. “Did I grow another head in the shower, or something?”</p><p>“I think I just have low blood sugar,” Bentley admitted. “I’m starting to stare into space and forget what I’m doing.”</p><p>“Same here,” Sly admitted. “The steam made my head all fuzzy.”</p><p>“Yes, I’ve noticed that, too,” Bentley said. </p><p>“Almost set off my vertigo,” Sly toppled into the nearest chair, only sitting up when Murray slid a plate before him. </p><p>“Are you sure you don’t want to try motion sickness pills?” Bentley asked, nodding to Murray as he received a plate as well. </p><p>“I will if it gets really bad,” Sly said while Murray slid into the chair across from them. “I’m okay for now.” </p><p>Murray watched as his brothers turned their attention to the food. The recipe he’d memorized after reading it on Bentley’s computer served eight, so they each had two, with the eighth split evenly among them. The burritos were fat, stuffed full of beans and veggies and cheese. It smelled amazing, and Murray’s mouth was watering. He hoped his friends approved. </p><p>“Bon apetit!” He announced, and the gang tucked in. </p><p>Having tasted the first bite, Murray could understand Sly sweet-talking the food now. Each bite was better than the last, a perfect combination of warm beans and crunchy vegetables. And the cheese and sour cream were perfect additions. </p><p>Bentley belched, wheeling back from the table. “Oof. I’ll crack my shell if I eat any more!” He’d managed to get through two of the burritos, being underfed and hungry, but a third, even a little more than half of one, was too much food for him. </p><p>Sly didn’t hesitate. Not even finished with his second burrito, he scooped up a quarter of the remaining burrito on Bentley’s plate, promptly making it disappear. Bentley slid his plate towards Murray, who happily took what Sly had left behind. </p><p>“I’m almost done with the data crunching for our next job,” Bentley said. “Once things calm down around here, we can make our way towards Australia.” He settled back in his chair, hands crossed over the front of his shell. </p><p>“Good,” Murray said, mouth full of the last of his burrito. “I can’t wait to see my Master again. You guys’ll love him!”</p><p>Sly muffled a burp, slumping in his chair and loaning softly. “Ungh...I think I ate too fast!” He rubbed at his stomach awkwardly, trying to soothe it.</p><p>“Due justice for scarfing down your food like a trash compactor,” Bentley teased, eyeing Sly with a knowing grin. </p><p>“Hey, fuck you, I was starving!” Sly retorted without real malice. “Don’t forget I did most of the pickpocketing.”</p><p>“And I’ve been in training,” Murray pointed out. “We’re even.”</p><p>“Fine,” Sly threw up his hands dramatically. “My eyes are bigger than my stomach. What else is new?”</p><p>“Sky’s blue,” Bentley said in a lofty tone, making Murray laugh. </p><p>“Seriously, fuck you guys,” Sly complained, pulling himself up from the table and flipping the bird over his shoulder. “I’m going to bed.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Based off of a tumblr prompt: “you’re so yummy,” which is probably not supposed to be about food...but whatever. </p><p>Sly can say fuck. That is all. </p><p>Kevin Miller, stop having a sexy ASMR voice!!! 😡😡😡 (actually don’t tho)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Blind Date</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I’m so nervous,” Murray admitted, sitting in front of the mirror and staring at himself. “What if he doesn’t like me?”</p><p>“Dude, c’mon!” Sly retorted, barely looking up from where he was putting a top coat over Murray’s nail polish. “If he doesn’t like you, then I’m Santa Claus!”</p><p>“That can be arranged,” Bentley teased. “Seriously, though, Murray. Just be yourself. That’s how to be the most attractive.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Murray looked away. “I guess. But…”</p><p>“Hey,” Sly slid onto the vanity, gently pushing aside a makeup palette with his tail as he sat directly in front of his friend. “Stop worrying, okay?” He grinned. “You know this guy is into you. You’ve been talking for ages. It’s worth a shot at least, right?”</p><p>“Right!” Murray squared his shoulders like he was going into battle, and wasn’t wearing holographic nails and a smokey eye. “Thanks for doin my topcoat for me, Sly. And thanks for helping me with my suit, Bentley.”</p><p>“No problem,” his brothers said simultaneously. </p><p>Sly patted Murray’s shoulder. “Go get ‘im, pal.”</p><p>“We’ll be waiting,” Bentley promised. </p><p>Murray smiled, and headed out the door. </p><p>“All right, Sly,” Bentley said, “you know what to do.”</p><p>Sly grabbed his binocucom and cane. “On it!”</p><p>~</p><p>Murray was already nervous enough being in a sizable crowd with bounty on his head, but, just as Sly had assured him, Murray was the best at disguises out of all of them, and nobody would recognize “The Murray” with makeup on. </p><p>He liked his makeup look; just a foundation to match his skin tone, a little contour, blush, and a smokey eye. Sly had helped with his nails, and they looked good. It wasn’t like Murray couldn’t have done it on his own, but Sly wanted to help, and he was better at nails than at eyeliner. Murray chuckled to himself, thinking of the last time Sly tried to do a winged liner. He’d looked even more like a raccoon than usual! </p><p>He was sitting alone at the table, waiting for his date, like he had been for the better part of an hour. Every time the door opened, he would look up, expecting to see a handsome man looking for his table. But, it was just couples or families. He sighed. He was sure a blind date would’ve been better, seeing as nobody could turn him down just because of his weight, but maybe the guy had guessed, judging by how much Murray talked about recipes. Or maybe he thought Murray was a sissy, or…</p><p>The door opened again, to someone by themselves. Except Murray could recognize that tail in his sleep. Sly had a satin jacket over a button-down shirt, hair slicked back. He was wearing the dance shoes they’d stolen from India, and was looking a little lost. Murray was a bit worried for two reasons. The first was that Sly was here at all; had something happened? The second was that Sly could only handle big crowds if he was at a social event. Parties, he liked. There were excuses to mingle in small groups. He had never liked large throngs of people. If Sly has a panic attack…</p><p>But instead, Sly found him (after pretending to have been looking for him) and waved. Murray waved back, confused, as Sly strode forward confidently through the crowd. </p><p>“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Sly said, brushing dust off his lapels. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”</p><p>“You didn’t,” Murray said, a bit confused. “I wasn’t expecting you.”</p><p>Sly demurred, giggling shyly. “Oh, don’t be silly! How could I ever turn down a hunk like you?” </p><p>Murray wanted to laugh. Sly liked playing the effeminate gay. The question was, why was he doing that in the first place? At that moment, the door to the restaurant opened again, and Bentley rolled his wheelchair inside. People who were waiting for a table stepped aside to give him room. He was disguised as well, a cloth hat matching the more casual dark wash denim jacket he was wearing over a black necktie. Murray could appreciate the aesthetic...but he was still confused. </p><p>Bentley made his way towards the table. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, pitching his voice deeper in contrast to the way Sly’s had been more high-pitched. “Hey! What’re you doing here?” He glared at Sly. </p><p>“I should be asking you the same thing,” Sly pointed an accusing finger at Bentley. “I’m here for my date!”</p><p>“So am I,” Bentley said, and Murray smiled, starting to catch on. “One of us has the wrong table and you, buddy,” the turtle wheeled into Sly’s space, making the raccoon step back, hand splayed on his heart in dramatic offense, “are definitely at the wrong table. This gentleman is far too handsome for you!”</p><p>“I think he’s just the right amount of handsome,” Sly argues. “Just look at those bulging muscles,” he gestured, and Murray flexed, having a bit of fun now that he was in on the joke. “A man like that deserves the world!”</p><p>“Guys, you’re gonna make me blush,” Murray grumbled under his breath. Sly winked before sliding back into character as Bentley charged further. </p><p>“And? You still kept this gorgeous man waiting! Look at the poor guy’s makeup! All smudged because you were off…” Bentley waved his hand as he searched for an insult, “vaping!”</p><p>Sly gasped. “Do you think I would smoke around such a deceptively delicate flower?! The nerve!”</p><p>Murray looked over again as the restaurant doors opened. It was his real date, a buck with gold chains draped artfully around his antlers, dressed to the nines in a slimming suit to complement his slender body. Murray recognized the designer logo on his tie, and felt shame creep up his throat as he thought of his thrifted jacket and pilfered shirt. Even the silk skirt he was so proud of made him feel like a freak next to this guy. </p><p>“What’s going on here?” The buck spoke, his voice like molten chocolate, as he approached the table. “Which of you is Murray?” His eyes slid approvingly over Sly, and Murray hid his face. “I hope it’s you, handsome.” </p><p>“Sorry,” Sly slid in beside Murray, hooking his arm through the hippo’s. “I’m taken. Happily.”</p><p>“Me too.” Bentley took Murray’s hand, glaring at the buck. </p><p>The deer narrowed his eyes, then laughed. “Oh, thank god,” he said, relieved. “I could never be seen with such a,” he waved his hand derisively, “hideous beast.”</p><p>“Hey,” Sly said, voice sharp despite the different pitch. Murray recognized it as the raccoon’s “don’t fuck with me” voice, a rarely seen anger flashing in his eyes. “Murray is amazing! He’s funny and kind and always knows what to say!”</p><p>“His strength and skill can’t be matched!” Bentley agreed. </p><p>“And tonight, he’s my date.” Sly declared. “So fuck off.”</p><p>“No, he’s my date,” Bentley argued. “You fuck off!”</p><p>As his two friends bickered, Murray watched the deer walk away. He felt a little bit upset at the rejection, but his friends were nearby, defending him on what was technically their night off. He felt warm inside even so. It was good to be with his brothers again. </p><p>Once the deer was out of sight, Sly deflated. “Ack, my throat,” he complained. “I don’t know how you do those high-pitches voices, Murray. I feel like I’ll be raspy by tomorrow!” </p><p>Murray chuckled. “It takes practice.”</p><p>“Let’s get out of here,” Bentley suggested. “I think we’ve caused enough of a scene.” He glanced at the table. “Nothing needs to be paid for, right?”</p><p>“Nope. I didn’t order yet.” Murray replied. </p><p>“Let’s get Chinese,” Sly said, stretching as Murray got to his feet. “I saw a great place on the way over.” He locked his arm through Murray’s, hiding a yawn in the hippo’s bicep. </p><p>“Do you mean you saw it or smelled it?” Bentley asked, guiding Murray to the handles of his chair. That was about equivalent to hand-holding, Murray knew. </p><p>Sly laughed. “Both!”</p><p>“Chinese sounds fantastic,” Murray said, sighing in the fresh air. He was still upset about being stood up. He was glad for his friends, but…</p><p>“That guy was a complete jerk,” Bentley grumbled, going back to controlling his own chair as Sly let go of Murray. It wasn’t a sudden “no homo” sort of thing, though. It was more of a natural progression as they walked together on the sidewalk, with Bentley’s chair a half-step ahead. “What didjya day his name was?”</p><p>“Pierce Monogram,” Murray said. “Trust fund baby, I think. Works in the family business selling shoes.”</p><p>“That’s ironic,” Sly mused, swinging his arms up to rest behind his head as he walked. “He wasn’t wearing shoes.”</p><p>Murray laughed. “No, I guess he wasn’t. That’s a dealbreaker for me.” </p><p>“Murray, you don’t wear shoes either,” Bentley said. </p><p>“Exactly!” Murray went on, still laughing. “Somebody has to wear the shoes in the relationship!”</p><p>All three of them laughed, and couldn’t stop laughing until they reached the Chinese. </p><p>~</p><p>“Ah, the smell of sweet, sweet MSG,” Sly licked his lips as he set out the various cartons and bowls. </p><p>“This isn’t going to give me indigestion, is it?” Bentley asked skeptically, wrinkling his nose. </p><p>“No, no, I got your egg rolls and plain rice here,” Sly set out the food separately for Bentley before using a set of chopsticks to serve himself liberal amount of pork fried rice and vegetable lo mein, claiming one of the containers of scallion pancakes for himself. </p><p>“Man,” Murray grinned, slurping his hot and sour soup, “I forgot how good Chinese food actually is.”</p><p>“Right?!” Sly beamed. “Glad I thought of it. I haven’t had a good Chinese in months!” </p><p>“It’s delicious, I agree. Pass the wonton soup, Murray?” Bentley asked. </p><p>“What’re we watchin?” Sly asked between shoveling noodles into his mouth. </p><p>Murray blushed. “Are you guys gonna kill me if I say I wanna watch “Pitch Perfect” again?”</p><p>Sly swallowed noisily. “Nah, I like that one all right. It’s funny.”</p><p>“I’ve no objection,” Bentley said, taking off his glasses momentarily to clean them of the fog from his soup. “It’s date night, after all. You always pick the films for date night.”</p><p>“You guys still wanna call it date night?” Murray asked. </p><p>The gang had always jokingly held “date nights” for self care, movies, and video games. But that had been before Murray was officially out of the closet. His friends were straight. He thought they hadn’t had a date night in a while because his friends didn’t want to do that sort of this with him now that he was out as gay. </p><p>Sly leaned forward. “You okay, big guy?”</p><p>Murray sniffled. “I...I dunno, I thought you guys...didn’t wanna do this with me anymore.”</p><p>“Why wouldn’t we?” Bentley asked. </p><p>“I’m gay,” Murray confessed. “I like guys.”</p><p>“So?” Sly twitched his tail in confusion. “You’re still my brother. My friend.” He waved his tail in Murray’s face, making the hippo sneeze. “In case I haven’t made it abundantly clear,” the raccoon snuggled up properly against Murray’s side, chittering quietly, “I love you, pal.”</p><p>“So do I,” Bentley affirmed. “And...not to be too blunt about it, but...it was pretty obvious to me that you weren’t straight. But,” he cleared his throat, smiling. “That never mattered to me. You’re still my brother. And I still love you.” </p><p>Murray rubbed the tears out of his eyes. “Thanks, guys.”</p><p>“Sure thing, Murray,” Sly replied, butting his head against Murray’s shoulder before sitting up to properly shovel more food down his throat. </p><p>“I’ll get the DVD,” Bentley abandoned his food momentarily and rolled his chair over to set up the TV. Once he was done, he took his food and rolled closer to the couch, so Murray could enjoy his comfort, too. </p><p>Murray smiled warmly, happily chowing down on Chinese food and shouting all the words to the songs at the top of his lungs. </p><p>That was the best part about being home, Murray decided as he laughed at Sly nearly choking on a wonton and Bentley snorting soup out his nose, was being with the people who loved you unconditionally.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I guess Murray does wear shoes? Oops. </p><p>Also, hopefully Sly pretending to be an effeminate gay man isn’t insulting. He wasn’t doing it to make fun of Murray, and I think Murray probably taught him how to play the part. (I dunno about Bentley and Sly being 100% straight though...just sayin.)</p><p>Prompt from swampythesweetsketch on tumblr! I’m taking prompts for thus series, so go drop em in my inbox! I’m pastelbrachypelma on tumblr.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Under the Stars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Finally, Carmelita thought, the house was starting to feel like home. </p><p>It wasn’t anything lavish or grand, really, and was more on the traditional side appearance-wise. But it was theirs. It wasn’t a flat or a rental. It was a house in their name. And that made it special no matter what. </p><p>The autumn night was cool and clear, the leaves gently shaking on the branches, rustling outside the window. Carmelita pulled a sweater on over her tee shirt and opened the sliding door into the backyard. </p><p>Sly was lying in the hammock, one leg touching the ground to rock back and forth. His arms were behind his head, a warm sweater replacing his usual tunic. Sly looked good in blue, which was a color that made up a majority of his wardrobe, and the dark navy of the ribbed sweater with a quarter zip closure made him look especially suave and attractive. </p><p>The vixen chuckled, carefully sliding the door closed behind her with a soft smack, and made her way into the yard. As she approached, Sly turned to her, grinning, settling his hands across his chest instead. </p><p>“Bonjour, chérie,” he said warmly, opening his arms for her.</p><p>“Hola cariño,” Carmelita leaned down to press a kiss to her lover’s lips. “What’re you doing out here? You’ll catch your death!”</p><p>Sly chuckled, tilting his head up to kiss her again, deepening it for a moment before he pulled away, nuzzling her snout. “Stargazing,” he explained. “And it’s not very cold, chérie, but, if you’re worried,” he flopped back with a mischievous glint in his eye, “there’s room for two.”</p><p>Carmelita rolled her eyes, but sat down on the edge of the hammock, draping herself over Sly’s lean, muscular body, so that her head was against his shoulder and her legs were across his lap. Their tails found each other and overlapped over their legs. “Better, cariño?” She asked, nuzzling into his shoulder. Sly smelled like fresh grass and sweat from working on the lawn today, but there was still a hint of his cologne; pine and spice and muted citrus and vanilla. He smelled good, she reflected. Like their bed. Like familiarity. Like home. </p><p>“Mmm, much,” Sly settled in underneath his wife. Carmelita was heavier than he was by at least thirty pounds, but he didn’t mind being crushed a bit. Her fur was thicker than his, softer and warmer, and to be close to her was heaven on earth...not that Sly believed in heaven. Being with her, smelling her; the scent of her woodsy shampoo, the spices from dinner clinging to her, the strong, sharp scent of her perfume...he’d given up being a thief to be with her, and he didn’t regret that choice. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, butting his head against hers as he stared up into the navy November sky. </p><p>Overhead, the stars were little white dots in the sky, twinkling down onto them. Sly was glad they were far enough away from civilization to be able to see the sky at night like this. Even though he could never find a single constellation, it was comforting to see the vastness of the sky up above and all around them. Nature’s embrace. </p><p>“I’m glad we did this,” Carmelita dug her chin into Sly’s chest, making the raccoon look at her. “Retirement, the house, the kids…”</p><p>“Mm, two of those things have yet to come, chérie,” Sly purred, running his hand through Carmelita’s hair. “But you’re right. I’ll be glad to be done with Interpol, though I know you don’t feel the same yet.”</p><p>“I will eventually,” Carmelita said, moving her ears out of the way of Sly’s hand. She wrapped an arm around his waist, sighing contentedly. “I never thought you’d wanna be a stay-at-home dad.”</p><p>Sly snorted. “When it’s between that and the police?” He rocked the hammock with his laughter as he tried to dodge Carmelita’s playful slap. “Seriously, though. My dad…” he trailed off, and Carmelita took his hand, watching him with her deep, dark eyes as she waited for him to explain. “My dad was always busy. That’s why I don’t remember him, except the stories he told me about our ancestors.” He shrugged. “I have a chance to raise our kids, to be around, to be there for them. Of course I’m gonna do that.”</p><p>Carmelita leaned up to kiss his cheek. “I can’t wait. You’re gonna be an amazing dad, Sly.”</p><p>“And you’re gonna be a great mom. I know it.” Sly nuzzled Carmelita’s nose, pressing a kiss to the tip of her snout. “Do I say thank you, for carrying my kits?”</p><p>Carmelita laughed. “That’s fucking weird, ringtail. Like, “thank you for being my baby oven”.”</p><p>Sly made a face. “Ew, gross.” He snorted. “I bet somebody’s into it.”</p><p>“Of course someone’s into it!” Carmelita barked a laugh. “There’s a kink for everything!” She settled down against him as a cool breeze washed over them that made her husband shiver. “In all seriousness...I wanted your kits, Sly. More than anything. I’m glad we have this chance together.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Sly hummed. “Me too.” </p><p>They lay there in silence for a while, listening to the wind, and thinking about the future. There was a nursery upstairs, ready to be painted, and a new adventure coming in nine months’ time. </p><p>“Do you know any of the constellations?” Carmelita asked, tilting her head up, her eyes watching Sly’s rove across the sky. </p><p>“No. I never learned.” Sly replied wistfully. “I’d like to. I love the stars.”</p><p>“I know a few,” Carmelita replies thoughtfully. “My mamá taught me a lot about the stars, though I only remember bits and pieces of it.” She shifted carefully on the hammock. “Here, switch positions with me, cariño. I need a better view of the sky.”</p><p>After a lot of floundering and laughing, and Sly falling out of the hammock...twice, Carmelita was now on her back with Sly lying on top of her. The raccoon nuzzled his wife’s neck, giggling as Carmelita flinched away, ticklish. </p><p>“You’re distracting me,” Carmelita growled half heartedly. </p><p>“Sorry,” Sly said, clearly not sorry at all. He lay with his cheek on her shoulder, watching her sharp eyes dart across the sky, looking for her target. Gods, but she was beautiful. How did he get so lucky?</p><p>“You can see Taurus now,” Carmelita said, pointing. “Look. Follow my finger.”</p><p>“Oh, I see it,” Sly nodded. “That’s the bull, right?” </p><p>“Yep. And that little cluster of stars there, with the bright one right in the center, is Pleiades.” </p><p>“Wow.” Sly murmured. “It’s nice to be able to put a name to what’s in the sky.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, yawning into her shoulder. “It’s so nice out here. I never want to leave.”</p><p>“That’s cause you’re comfy and squishing me,” Carmelita teased. </p><p>“Am not,” Sly protested, grinning into her shoulder. “Je suis petit.”</p><p>“You’re a little devil, I’d say,” Carmelita grumbled, nuzzling her husband. “Should we head inside, Hager some sleep?”</p><p>“Not yet,” Sly snuggled in against her side, smiling. “Let’s just enjoy this for a few minutes longer.”</p><p>“I’d like that,” Carmelita wrapped her arms around Sly, kissing his forehead. “Just don’t fall asleep on me, cariño. I’m not carrying you in the house.”</p><p>Sly snorted. “Fair enough.” </p><p>The stars shone bright overhead, and the wind smelled fresh and cool. But what mattered more than any of that was that they were together. </p><p>And soon, two would become four.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This kinda fits into my “not Sly 4” AU but you didn’t need to read that series to understand this fic. </p><p>Some fluffy SlyFox was requested on my tumblr, and as a lover of fluff, I was required to deliver!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. And So, The Song Ended</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>PLEASE NOTE!!! </p><p>This chapter contains descriptions of and a character having a miscarriage. I don't believe the descriptions are enough to warrant a graphic rating, but please let me know if you think this is the case! </p><p>If you are triggered by miscarriages, PLEASE AVOID THIS CHAPTER!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Shit,” Carmelita mumbled under her breath. She’d missed her period, and had, very discreetly, obtained a pregnancy test, thanks to Tesla and Ursula, the older girls, who had to wander into the nearest town for supplies. Bentley, Sly, and Murray had decided that it was easier to send the kids out to the shops if they needed anything, as they were less likely to get recognized. It didn’t stop everyone from being on edge about it, though.</p><p>Anyway...there they were. Two little pink lines. Great. Just what she needed while on the run. She looked out past the half-open doorway to where Sly was still asleep in their bed, starfishing on his back, tail twitching as he dreamed. She didn’t know what he would think, or even what she wanted to do about it. The stress of it made her want to cry, but she was stronger than that.</p><p>It could wait. She’d tell him in the morning. </p><p>That was her thought process, at least, until Sly heard her coming back to bed and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “What’s wrong, chérie?” He asked groggily. “You look worried.”</p><p>Carmelita sighed, wishing that, for once, her husband was about as dull as the idiots her friends back home married, and climbed into bed. “Sly…” her fingers wove around the bedsheets. “I...I think I’m pregnant.”</p><p>“Really?” Sly swiveled his ears and his tail twitched. “You sure?”</p><p>Carmelita nodded. “The test has two pink lines.” She sniffled, turning away from him. “I...I dunno what to do…! I…”</p><p>“Hey,” Sly sat up on the bed, opening his arms for her. “C’mere, love.”</p><p>The vixen hesitated for a moment before closing the distance between them, her sobs quiet as she nestled in against him. Sly curled his tail around her and brought her close to his side. He still smelled like sleep and the sea-salt brine of the air of the Italian coast they’d left some time ago. It made her heart ache. She knew how much this situation was stressing out Sly, and this was one more trouble they had to face. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, “I should’ve been more careful…”</p><p>“And I should’ve been careful, too,” Sly told her, pulling her into his lap. “It takes two to tango, after all.” Carmelita giggled, remembering dancing under the stars in front of a crowd of awed bystanders with a stranger she hadn’t fully registered as Sly. Or, perhaps, she thought, she wanted that line of plausible deniability for herself. “Look...nobody has to know yet, all right? We can wait. I’ll handle whatever wrath Bentley wants to throw my way.” he chuckled. “We’ll figure out what to do, chérie. It’s okay. You’re not alone.”</p><p>Carmelita sobbed again, hiding her muzzle against his throat. “Cariño,” she mumbled. “I...I don’t know why...I was so scared you’d be mad…!”</p><p>“Mad?” Sly pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Why?!”</p><p>“Being on the run won’t be easy with a baby,” Carmelita sighed, finally meeting her husband’s bronze eyes. “And you and I are well past our prime.”</p><p>Sly snorted. “Speak for yourself.” Carmelita swatted at him, chuckling. “And...look, it’s not like I’m not scared, chérie. I’m scared to death! Growing up on the run isn’t any sort of life for a kid.” The unspoken “I would know” lay heavily between them. “But, we’ll figure it out, okay?” He smiled, tenderly wiping a tear from her cheek. “I promise we will. I’ll be here every step of the way.”</p><p>Carmelita nodded, sniffling. “T-thank you.” She hated feeling vulnerable, something Sly knew after twenty-some years of marriage, but she couldn’t help how delicate she felt right now. </p><p>Sly leaned forward, kissing her deeply. The moonlight reflected in his eyes, a sight she’d seen a thousand times, but was no less beautiful. She smiled, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “I can’t help thinking about her,” she said wistfully. “What she’ll be like.”</p><p>Sly tilted his head curiously. “You’re thinking it’s a little girl?”</p><p>Carmelita nodded, smiling. “And I’m betting it’s a raccoon, too.”</p><p>“Or we could be the first interspecies mammals to have a mutant kit,” Sly mused.</p><p>“No!” Carmelita growled playfully, laughing. “That just reminds me of Dr. M!”</p><p>“Oh, gods, you’re right,” Sly laughed. “Okay, then. No mutant kits.” He lay back down, pulling her on top of him, unable to keep a yawn from passing his lips. “Maybe she’ll have russet fur. It’s in my bloodline.”</p><p>“Hmm...that might be nice,” Carmelita propped herself up on top of Sly, running her fingers through his hair. He liked feeling her weight on top of him, and the extra soothing touch would no doubt put him back to sleep. Her tail wound around his as the raccoon slowly closed his eyes. “Blue hair, do you think?”</p><p>“Nah, blue stripes,” Sly murmured, chittering at the stimulation, tilting his head up into her fingers.</p><p>“Pretty,” Carmelita agreed, resting her ear against his heart. </p><p>Sly wrapped his arms around her, sighing. “Not as pretty as you, chérie.”</p><p>Carmelita rolled her eyes. “Malo cariño.”</p><p>~</p><p>“Auntie Lita!”</p><p>Carmelita turned from carrying some supplies into the main trailer to see her nieces, Tesla and Ursula, running up to her. Carmelita set down one of the heavy bags as they came near, smiling. </p><p>“Hey, Tess, hey Ursie. What’s wrong?”</p><p>Ursula wrung her huge brown paws together. Like her adoptive father, Murray, she loved boxing and cooking, and her large hands were especially good for punching bad guys and kneading dough. She was somewhat shyer than Tesla, who took after her mother’s spunky, to the point personality. </p><p>“The test,” Tesla explained, her long, skinny tail whipping about excitedly. “How did it go? Are you pregnant?”</p><p>“Shh,” Carmelita cautioned, putting a finger to her lips. “Keep it down! I don’t want the whole world knowing!”</p><p>“But you told Uncle Sly, right?” Ursula asked, tilting her head curiously. </p><p>“Yes, of course I told him. I just…” Carmelita sighed, running a hand through her hair, “I’m...not ready to tell the others.” She gave Tesla a scolding look. “And I don’t want Selena and Carson finding out before I’m ready. Keep yourself restrained, Miss Blabber-Mouth.”</p><p>Tesla crossed her arms over her chest moodily. “Fiiine, I won’t say anything.”</p><p>“I’m very happy for you, Auntie Lita,” Ursula placed a hand on Carmelita’s arm. “I won’t tell anyone. It’s our secret.”</p><p>“Thank you, Ursie,” Carmelita sighed in relief. </p><p>“Tess!” Selena called from the top of the trailer. “Hurry up! I wanna test out my paragliding skills!”</p><p>“Hey!” Carmelita said sharply, “who gave you clearance for that?! I sure as hell know your father didn’t!”</p><p>“Mooom, how am I supposed to be a master thief without knowing how to paraglide?” Selena poured, flipping dramatically onto the trailer. </p><p>“You won’t become a master thief if you crack your head open and die,” Carson pointed out. </p><p>Selena growled, but relented, and Tesla and Irsula went off to join their cousins. </p><p>Carmelita sighed. She’d have her hands full with three raccoon thieves, that was for sure. She lightly touched her belly before picking up the bag she’d discarded before. Nine months would pass by like that. Except this time, it wasn’t likely she’d have the benefit of doctor’s visits. </p><p>That scared her a little, just like it had when she’d been pregnant with the twins. Her mom and aunt had difficult pregnancies of their own. With the twins, at least she could go to a professional to have her fears alleviated or explained...but not this time. </p><p>Even with Sly supporting her, she knew she’d be on her own for this pregnancy. “It’s just you and me, little kit,” she murmured to herself. “As long as you stay healthy, everything will be all right.”</p><p>~</p><p>The minute Carmelita felt the pain in her stomach, she knew, with a mother’s intuition, that something was wrong. </p><p>“Carmelita?” Murray, who noticed her discomfort, placed a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”</p><p>Of course, it was a night Sly had to be gone. These quick in-and-out supply runs weren’t uncommon, and were very important for the overall health of everyone during this time on the run between safe houses. It was late at night, so none of the kids were in the main space. They usually gathered in Kennedy’s room or were asleep at this hour. Bentley was in his bedroom-office, where the tech hub was located, so he could focus on Sly, out in the field like usual. With Tom in bed with a cold, only Murray, washing dishes, and Carmelita, reading while she waited for Sly, were out in the main room. </p><p>Carmelita, who had come into the kitchen for a glass of water, had clearly shown more of her pain than she intended. “Fine,” she ground out, biting her lip. “Just cramps, I think.” </p><p>“Can I do anything to help?” Murray asked, clearly worried. </p><p>“No, no, it’s okay,” Carmelita tried to smile convincingly, making her way to the bathroom. “I’ll feel better soon.”</p><p>“Okay, just let me know if I can help!” Murray called after her. </p><p>Carmelita appreciated Murray caring about her, but she hadn’t wanted to be noticed in her pain. </p><p>As soon as she sat on the toilet, blood gushed out of her, and she bit her arm hard to keep from screaming. </p><p>It had been a month. Only a month. She wouldn’t even recognize her baby now. </p><p>She heard a knock on the door. “Get Sly,” she managed before her voice began to shake. “Tell him to come home. Please.”</p><p>~</p><p>Sly could only begin to guess what had happened the minute Bentley told him to return to the RV immediately. The fact that it was Carmelita who wanted him home only made things worse. If he lingered on it in his mind, thousands of scenarios would paralyze him with fear. He just needed to get to her, see that she was well. Then, he could deal with everything else.</p><p>“It sounds like something’s wrong with her,” Bentley said through the comm link. “Care to explain?”</p><p>“Benntley, there’s a thousand scenarios running through my head right now, all of them worse than the first,” Sly was breathing hard with exertion as he leapt and bounded across rooftops, using front flips to cross short distances, looking for places he could run along or use his cane for longer distances. A refill of Kennedy’s medications were in his hip pouch, and they rattled noisily as he ran. “Even if I knew, it’s probably private.”</p><p>“Of course. Sorry I asked.” Bentley replied sympathetically.</p><p>“The RV’s about a half-mile, I can see it,” Sly ducked low, arms out for balance as he ran effortlessly along a powerline that barely groaned under his slight weight. “I’ll be there soon.”</p><p>“Roger that. I’ll sign off.” Bentley clicked off on the other end, and Sly suddenly felt very alone.</p><p>~</p><p>Sly entered the RV in a rush, unhooking his hip pouch and throwing it carelessly onto the table. His bronze eyes were wild with anxiety, chest heaving from sprinting. “Where is she?”</p><p>“Bathroom,” Murray said, pointing at the closed door for Sly. “I tried to ask if she needed anything, but I didn’t get an answer.”</p><p>“Thanks, Murray,” Sly patted his brother’s shoulder and then slipped past him, making his way towards the door. Immediately, he pulled up short. Murray’s nose wasn’t as good as his, otherwise he would’ve been more alarmed.</p><p>Blood.</p><p>Any appetite Sly might’ve worked up from being on the job tonight faded immediately, and he swallowed thickly, approaching the door. He knocked on it softly. “Carmelita? You there, chérie?”</p><p>There was a tense moment of silence, in which Sly seriously debated forcing the door, and then Carmelita, her voice sounding weak, called, “It’s open.”</p><p>Sly turned the knob and slipped through the smallest gap he could manage, closing the door so hard behind him that he pulled out a few tail hairs. He locked it, the smell of blood sickeningly overwhelming, and tried to take in the scene.</p><p>He didn’t have much time to process. Carmelita barreled into him, squeezing him tight enough to hurt, her snout burrowed into his chest. She was sobbing, and bleeding from her lower extremities. Sly could feel the blood congealing in his fur, sticky and fresh. It was dripping down into the floor at her feet, and there was more of it in the toilet bowl. Carmelita had discarded her pants at some point; they were tossed into the tub across from the toilet. Her shirt wasn’t bloody, but there was blood in her tail and dripping down her legs.</p><p>It was all so much...Sly had to make an effort not to be sick, not to be whisked away to the last time he had smelled this much blood, to keep himself here, in the moment, and not go back to when he was a child, orphaned, surrounded by his parents’ corpses… He swallowed again, trembling with the exertion of pulling himself down to earth, ears ringing as he clung to Carmelita. He wasn’t going to break down. Not now. She needed him. </p><p>“Sly,” Carmelita looked up at him, her eyes swimming with tears. “Sly, I’m sorry...the blood...I didn’t realize…”</p><p>Sly shook his head. “Carmelita...what’s wrong? Are you okay?” He gripped her biceps, hard, wanting to focus on her. “Don’t worry about me. I’m sorry, I had a brief flashback, but I’m here with you now, love. Are you hurt? You’re bleeding so much…”</p><p>Carmelita sobbed again, hiding her face in her neck. “Sly,” she choked out, “the baby…”</p><p>Sly froze. Oh shit. A miscarriage. “Carmelita,” he wrapped his arms tighter around her, letting her embrace tighten until he could barely get a deep breath in. He ran a hand through her hair, wrapping his tail around her. “Pouvre chérie, je t’aime…” he whispered, resting his chin on top of her head as she sobbed, blood and tissue clinging to her legs. </p><p>Sly rocked her, singing softly, letting Carmelita cry as much as she needed to. He was thankful that she was okay, at least as much as she could be in such a vulnerable state, and that the twins were safe. Carmelita had told him when she was pregnant with Selena and Carson that her family had a medical history of difficult pregnancies. Her first had turned out fine; except for some bed rest she took towards the end of her pregnancy, Selena and Carson had arrived without a hitch. This one, it seemed…</p><p>“I’m so sorry, Carmelita,” Sly murmured, blinking away the tears he felt rising to his eyes, hearing his wife cry her voice hoarse. “I’m sorry. You deserve better. I’m so sorry. I love you.”</p><p>Carmelita turned her face to the side, her grip finally letting up. Sly fully expected to be black and blue and sore by tomorrow. “God, I made such a mess,” she murmured, sniffling. “Fuck. I didn’t think about that.”</p><p>“It’s okay, chérie,” Sly pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ll clean it up. Why don’t you get in the shower? I’ll get you some water.”</p><p>“You’re bloody, too,” Carmelita weakly tilted her head up to look at him. There were tired circles under her eyes, and she looked pale. “You should shower with me. I feel lightheaded, anyway.”</p><p>“Okay, love,” Sly said agreeably, smiling faintly. “Let’s flush the toilet, all right? Then you can sit on it while I start the shower. I’m gonna call the guys,” he tapped his ear, “for some cleaning supplies, and maybe get some food started for ya.”</p><p>“I’m not hungry,” Carmelita pushed away from Sly, only to grip the sink hard as a rush of dizziness overcame her. </p><p>“All right, that’s okay,” Sly pushed off the door to help her sit. He reached around her to flush the toilet, the sound making a fresh round of tears rise, and Carmelita sobbed again. </p><p>“Our baby,” she moaned.</p><p>“Shh, I know,” Sly wrapped his arms around her as she hid her face in his stomach. “I’m sorry, Carmelita. I...I know there’s not much I can say, but I love you and I’m here for you.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Carmelita mumbled into his shirt. “Te amo, cariño.”</p><p>Sly held her tight, trying to make things better, even though he really couldn’t. He couldn’t undue the pain, he couldn’t endure it for her.</p><p>For the first time in a long time, Carmelita was alone again.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well, that was rough. *sniff* I think I'll get back to writing fluff now. (Seriously, I cried a lot while writing this. I don't even think I did such a horrible and life-altering thing justice.)</p><p>Prompt from @/nrdfox on Tumblr that definitely went off the rails: "Carmelita finds out she's pregnant with Sly's baby after he disappears or if trying to raise her kid knowing the target that's on the kid's back because of their lineage." This fits nicely within my "Sly 4 AU" universe, but gosh, does it hurt.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Sick Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Carmelita looked up from adjusting her holster to find Sly awake and moving to sit up. “Sorry, Sly,” the vixen flicked off the light in their en suite bathroom, crossing to his side of the bed. “I was going to call out, but I just got a call. They need me to take care of some things.” She brushed his short mess of hair away from his forehead, distressed that his fur was drenched in sweat. “I swear those idiots can’t do anything on their own.”</p><p>Sly smiled, his eyes fluttering closed as she checked his temperature. “The police force would fall apart without you, chérie. I was always certain of that.” He looked his age when he was sick, pale and reedy beneath his fur, his stripes faded due to poor health. It wasn’t even in any sort of traditional way, as Carmelita was older than him by a few years, and they both were not even “old,” not really, but Sly bore all his tragedies when he was ill. Dark circles under his eyes from the nightmares that taunted him, scars standing out under his fur, even the shadow of his ribs as he breathed seemed to remind her that he’d been through hell. </p><p>Carmelita smiled sadly. Sly had sworn to her up and down a thousand times before that his immune system had been much better in his youth, and he playfully blamed the kits for being germ magnets, but in truth, Carmelita suspected that his body had been fortified with adrenaline. Sly was underweight, and there was little she could do to fix that. He stayed stubbornly below 100lbs, and had just barely tipped the scales at 110 before the kits were born, when he was eating much more regularly. If she looked at their weight differences too hard, she might start to feel ashamed of herself, though Sly often reassured her his weight was not entirely his choice. </p><p>“The plan was to wait on you hand and foot until you were better,” the vixen leaned down to press a kiss to Sly’s warm forehead. </p><p>Sly snorted. “As it is, I’ll just give the kits whatever I’ve got.”</p><p>“I swear you just give yourself illnesses, worrying yourself into a tizzy being Mr. Mom,” Carmelita sat on the side of the bed to pull on and lace her boots. She felt Sly shimmying back down below the covers and heard him yawn. “You sure you can handle them on your own?”</p><p>“Mmhm,” Sly murmured sleepily. “They’re all right. They keep me on my toes, but I love it.”</p><p>Carmelita smiled warmly at him. “That you do.” She ran her hand down the line of his bicep and up to his shoulder soothingly, amazed at the hard wires of muscle she felt there. “All right, I’m off.” She stood up, her heart aching, reluctant to leave him. She hadn’t felt this torn in a while, but Sly was so weak, and he was burning up… “I’ll come by around lunchtime,” she promised as Sly snaked his arm out from under the covers and squeezed her hand. “Check on you and the kits, make you all some food.”</p><p>“Thank you, chérie,” Sly smiled, kissing her hand before returning it to her. “And don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”</p><p>“I always worry about you, cariño,” Carmelita replied, squeezing his hand before letting it drop. By her calculations, he had about an hour before the twins woke up, and he needed that hour to sleep. “Rest, now. I’ll be back soon.”</p><p>Sly yawned again, burrowing into the pillows, settling down to go back to sleep. He was horrible at it, between insomnia and natural nocturnal instincts that only seemed sharpened by years of thieving, but she could tell he was starting to drift off. </p><p>Carmelita pulled up the covers and tucked him in, pressing one last kiss to his forehead before she headed out the door for work. </p><p>She’d tell Bentley and Murray to check in, too. If left to his own devices, Sly would no doubt run himself ragged for the kits. </p><p>~</p><p>Sly’s ear twitched at the creak of the bedroom door, and he woke up. </p><p>“Carson!” Selena hissed. “Sneaking means you don’t make any noise!”</p><p>“Well, we gotta get in the room,” Carson argued in a low voice. “Anyway, this was your idea.”</p><p>“Fine, I’ll climb up and get the cereal. But I dunno how much milk to pour in.”</p><p>“You pour a glass full and then put it in the bowl. Duh.”</p><p>Sly smiled to himself, rolling over onto his back and stretching with a grunt. He was still sore, and he felt dizzy from the fever, his entire body chilled and his throat a bit sore. But ah well, a father’s work is never done. He pulled himself up into a sitting position, resting his chin on his hand as he grinned at his twins, standing stunned in the doorway. “Some thieves you are,” he teased. “Can’t even open a door without waking the neighborhood. What am I gonna do with you?”</p><p>“Daddy!” The twins ran forward and leaped onto the bed, crawling up to hug their father. Sly laughed as the kits barreled into him, bruising his spine against the headboard. </p><p>“Daddy, can we watch cartoons ‘n have cereal?” Selena asked. </p><p>“We’ll be nice and quiet, we promise!” Carson chimed in. </p><p>“Well, now,” Sly tried to put on a serious face, but he could feel a grin threatening to stretch across his lips. “Isn’t it a school day? Or did I somehow sleep until Saturday?” </p><p>“School’s boring,” Selena insisted, collapsing forward into his shoulder. “We don’t wanna learn all day.”</p><p>“Yeah, I dun like learning my letters,” Carson whined, swishing his tail irritably. “That’s no fun.”</p><p>“Wellllll…” Sly tapped his chin. “All right, I’ll give you the day off, since your teacher had to call in sick…”</p><p>“Yay!” The twins bounced up and down, eagerly high-giving each other. </p><p>“But don’t think that means you’re off the hook,” Sly told them, wagging a finger. “Uncle Bentley’s in charge of the tutoring tomorrow, and he’s not gonna take any excuses or puppy-dog eyes,” he ruffled up their hair as they giggled. “Got it?”</p><p>“Got it!” The twins chorused, grinning at each other. </p><p>“I call the middle spot!” Selena leaped off the bed, landing hard enough to make Sly wince, her tail practically wagging in excitement. </p><p>“No fair! You always get the middle spot!” Carson climbed down the bedclothes, shoving Selena with a pout. </p><p>“Cause I’m faster,” Selena stuck her tongue out. Carson punched her. “Ow! Daddy!”</p><p>Sly pulled aside the covers, putting his feet on the floor as he leaned over the twins. “Do you wanna do school today or not?”</p><p>“No,” the twins’ ears flattened, their tails between their legs. </p><p>“Okay, then, we gotta lay some ground rules.” Sly turned to his son. “No punching, Carson. That’s not nice. We keep our hands to ourselves.”</p><p>The little fox nodded. “Sorry, daddy.”</p><p>“Say sorry to Selena.”</p><p>“Sorry, Nina.”</p><p>Sly turned to his daughter. “It’s not nice to tease, either, Selena. He shouldn’t have punched you, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have to share.”</p><p>Selena swished her little gray tail, nodding. “Sorry, Carson.”</p><p>“That’s better. Now,” Sly stood up, stretching, as the twins watched. “First one to the couch gets the middle spot!” And he jogged off ahead of them. </p><p>“Hey! No fair!” Selena laughed, racing after him. </p><p>“Wait up, guys!” Carson tried to grab Sly’s tail before running off after his sister. </p><p>Sly hopped proudly onto the couch’s coveted middle spot, laughing as the twins dived into his lap. “I win,” he said simply as the kits burst out laughing. </p><p>~</p><p>At around noon, Sly heard the key in the lock. The ailing raccoon lifted his head from the throw blanket he’d settled around his shoulders. The twins were playing “castles” at his feet, using their blocks to build fortresses for their little plastic figures. Admittedly, Sly had been zoning out a bit; it was really hard to focus when his head felt like it was filled with sea water, but he was on high alert, ready to jump up and defend his family if need be. </p><p>Luckily, it was just Murray, dressed warmly for the weather in a brown aviator jacket and boots, and Ursula, his adopted daughter, who was wearing a pink puffer jacket. </p><p>“Hey, Murray,” Sly greeted with a wave as the twins rushed forward. </p><p>“Uncle Murray!”</p><p>“Hey, there!” Murray bellowed, lifting up the kits easily and giving them a warm hug. “How’s my two favorite troublemakers?”</p><p>“Very well, thank you!” Selena said politely. </p><p>“Yeah!” Carson agreed. He glanced down. “Hey, Ursie!”</p><p>Ursula smiled shyly, waving. “Hi Carson, hi Selena.” She looked up at Sly. “Hi Unc’ Sly.”</p><p>“Hello, Ursie.” Sly waved, pulling his legs up onto the couch. “Good to see you.”</p><p>“Carmelita told me you’re sick,” Murray stomped the snow out of his boots, making sure the door was closed and locked behind him. “Thought I’d make your favorite,” he thumbed the bag he had slung over his shoulder, which looked to contain some sort of pot. </p><p>Sly sniffed the air and hummed in appreciation. “Mmm...chili. Just the thing to clear my sinuses.” </p><p>“Ursie, c’mon!” Selena tugged her cousin along, “let’s go play upstairs!”</p><p>“Yeah, our daddies are just gonna be boring for forever,” Carson agreed. </p><p>Sly laughed. “Hold on, you two. Let her get out of her coat first.”</p><p>Ursula toed off her snow boots and the twins helped pull off her coat. “Whaddya guys wanna play?”</p><p>“Ooh! Let’s play thieves in space!” Selena bounced up and down. </p><p>“Yes!” Carson beamed. “I love that game!”</p><p>Ursula laughed, and the three of them stomped up the stairs like elephants. </p><p>Murray chuckled. “Reminds me of our days at the orphanage.” He made his way into the kitchen, setting down his bag. </p><p>Sly got up with a grunt, following after his brother. “Mm. Hard to believe we were that young, once.” He wobbled a bit, leaning against a chair. Now that his adrenaline was wearing off, he actually felt ill, and his legs and arms began to tremble as he shivered. </p><p>“Here, Sly,” Murray wrapped a strong, muscular arm around his friend’s shoulders, helping him into a chair. “Gosh, you feel delicate. Did you have breakfast?”</p><p>“Wasn’t hungry,” Sly sat down heavily, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “I am now, though. Seriously, that smells so good.” His stomach growled, and the raccoon sighed, pressing a hand to his belly. </p><p>“Glad to hear you still have an appetite for my cooking after all these years,” Murray said, placing the casserole dish onto the table and carefully opening it up. “I’ll leave this here for you, since I’m willing to bet it’s one of the only things you’ll eat.”</p><p>Sly made finger guns. “Bingo.” He leaned forward, poking his nose into the dish. “It smells nice and spicy. The kids won’t touch that.”</p><p>“Good, cause it’s for you, not them.” Murray chuckled. “And seriously?! You’re telling me your kids are picky?!” He started spooning some of the chili into a deep bowl and checked the heat of it, putting it in the microwave for a minute. </p><p>Sly laughed. “Carson moreso. Selena absolutely refuses to eat anything green, so we have to hide it in her food, or let it go bad.” </p><p>“That sounds like a raccoon,” Murray teased, smiling at his friend. “Oh! Bentley said he wanted to come ‘round, too, but he thinks you’re contagious still, and, well...you know how Kennedy is with her immune system…”</p><p>“Yeah, of course,” Sly nodded. “The kids come first. I’ll give him a call later if he doesn’t call me first.” </p><p>“He’ll like that,” Murray said. “Then the kids can vid chat.”</p><p>Sly stretched, yawning. “So, how’re things with Tom?”</p><p>Murray put the bowl in front of Sly, sitting across from the raccoon. He watched in satisfaction as Sly eagerly dug into the rich, meaty chili laden with spices. Carmelita had been worried the twins would wear Sly out, and she’d been right, judging by how exhausted Sly looked. “He’s good. He’s working from home now, just in case.” </p><p>Sly nodded. “Yeah, you guys are off Interpol’s radar, but I’m glad you’re being cautious.”</p><p>“Otherwise,” Murray shrugged, smiling, “what’s there to say? I’m happy. I love him. And Ursula really completed the family.”</p><p>Sly smiled warmly, reaching across to rest a hand over Murray’s. “I’m glad, big guy. You deserve it.” </p><p>Murray smiled shyly. “Yeah, suppose I do.” He watched Sly finish off the chili. “Want a little more, or are you good for now? I figure I’ll let Ursie wear your kits down for a bit, let you take a nap if you need one.”</p><p>“Honestly?” Sly yawned. “A nap would be great. If you don’t mind…?”</p><p>“Nah, no worries.” Murray dismissed. “I’ll clean up a bit and make sure they don’t get into trouble.” </p><p>Sly smiled gratefully, looking tired all of a sudden. “Thanks, Murray. Wake me up if you need a break.”</p><p>“Sure thing,” Murray said, watching carefully as Sly trudged off towards the bedroom. He’d let Sly rest. His overworked friend deserved it. </p><p>~</p><p>Carmelita unlocked the door at around 2PM to find Murray on the couch, surrounded by sleeping kits. “Hi,” she whispered, her voice low. “Is Sly…?”</p><p>“Sleeping,” Murray explained, voice low. “The kits just went down.”</p><p>“Thanks. I’ll put them to bed before I check on Sly.” Carmelita toes off her boots and shook the snow out of her hat. “I heard snow’s comin.”</p><p>“Yeah, I’d better get goin before the weather gets worse,” Murray carefully got up, lifting Ursula into his arms. </p><p>“Thanks, Murray. I appreciate it.” Carmelita and Murray exchanged a cheek kiss greeting, as was typical in France. “Say hi to Tom for me.”</p><p>“Will do,” Murray smiled. “You home for the day?”</p><p>“Paperwork,” Carmelita lifted up her bag with a sigh. “But yes. Drive safe!”</p><p>“Thanks.” Murray smiled, stepping into his boots. “Oh! I almost forgot. I left some chili for you guys. Sly says it’s too spicy for the kits, but it’s one of his favorites, so at least he’ll eat it.”</p><p>Carmelita chuckled. “I appreciate that, Murray. Thanks.”</p><p>“No problem.” Murray stepped out the door. “See you!”</p><p>“Bye!” Carmelita waved, closing the door behind him. She waited until Murray and Ursula were safe in the van and then went to put the kits to bed for their nap. </p><p>After she’d tucked both Selena and Carson into their beds, she crept back downstairs to check on Sly. </p><p>Her husband rubbed his eyes as she came in the room, yawning widely enough that a glint of his fangs could be seen. “Hey, chérie,” he glanced out the window nearby. “Snow’s comin down real bad.”</p><p>“Mmhmm,” Carmelita sat on the bed next to Sly, feeling his forehead. “I hope Murray will be all right gettin home.”</p><p>Sly made a “psh” sound. “He’ll be fine. A small snowstorm is nothing compared to some of the things he drove through.” He raised an eyebrow. “How’s my fever, chérie?” </p><p>“It seems to have gone down from this morning,” Carmelita sighed in relief. “Thank goodness. I was worried you’d make yourself sicker, home with the kits all day.”</p><p>“Nah, they were perfect little angels, as always,” Sly replied, grinning. </p><p>“Angels?” Carmelita snorted. “Your kits?! I think not.”</p><p>“As angelic as two little thieves-in-training can be, then,” Sly amended, chuckling. He leaned forward, nuzzling her cheek. “I’m glad you’re home. When I heard it was gonna snow, I was a nervous wreck.”</p><p>“Nah, I’m not low enough on the ladder to be considered emergency patrol,” Carmelita nuzzled Sly back. “Been there, done that. Now,” She got up, reaching behind him to fluff up his pillows. “What can I get for you? Tea? More food? Another blanket?”</p><p>Sly ran his fingers through her tail. “You don’t have to wait on me, Carmelita. I’m not that sick, y’know…”</p><p>“I know,” Carmelita kissed his forehead, scratching down his spine, making him chitter in delight. “But I like taking care of you. So, what would you like?”</p><p>Sly’s stomach growled and the raccoon chuckled. “More chili might be nice. Maybe a hot drink, whatever you’re making for yourself. And,” he smirked, “my lovely wife, to snuggle up to.” </p><p>Carmelita rolled her eyes. “Little devil.”</p><p>“As if you’re complaining,” Sly leaned back smugly against his pillows. </p><p>Carmelita swatted at him with her tail, making him sputter in response. “I might start. Any day, now.”</p><p>Sly laughed. “Not a chance!”</p><p>~</p><p>The snow was really coming down outside. Sly had finished a bowl and a half of chili, and was currently nursing a hot chocolate, leaning heavily on his wife, head on her shoulder, as Carmelita peered through her reading glasses, paperwork spread out across the bed. It wasn’t even the fun kind of paperwork, Sly noted. Just department complaints, evidence logs, the occasional request for vacation. Stuff inspectors had to deal with. </p><p>Sly was just finishing his hot cocoa when the twins burst into the room, fresh from their nap. Selena held a teddy bear with little sewn on glasses (a gift from Bentley) in her arms, while Carson was toting a reusable plastic bag that rattled with toys. </p><p>“Mama!” </p><p>Carmelita had just enough time to gather up the important papers and shove the folder towards Sly to put on his nightstand before she was accosted by the twins. She laughed, nuzzling them. “Mis hijos, you’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days!” She reached to tickle Carson while rubbing her nose against Selena’s in an Eskimo kiss. “Your daddy tells me you were little angels. Is that true?”</p><p>“Uh huh, we were!” Selena announced, putting her hands on her hips proudly. </p><p>“We played good little thieves on the moon!” Carson’s bronze eyes were wide. “It was awesome!” </p><p>Selena nodded frantically, tugging on Sly’s tail to involve him, too. “Daddy, wassat thing that makes you land on pointy stuff?” </p><p>“A ninja spire jump,” Soy replied, curling his legs under him so he could lean further into Carmelita’s space. </p><p>“Yeah, yeah! I pretended that we had to do that to get across the craters, but Ursie wasn’t any good at it, so then we decided we wanted to just jump the craters with big space jumps!”</p><p>“We found a moon rover!” Carson bounced up and down on Carmelita’s knee. “It was so cool! There was so much ancient gold on it!”</p><p>“It was stolen from the Cooper Vault!” Selena swished her tail happily. “So we carried it back to the spaceship and drove off to put it back!”</p><p>“And then Unc’ Murray said we could watch cartoons before nap time,” Carson finished. </p><p>“Wow,” Sly clapped. “That sounds like an awesome adventure.”</p><p>“Daddy,” Carson climbed over to sit closer to Sly while Selena snuggled in against her mom, “didjya ever go to the moon?”</p><p>Sly chuckled. “No, but one of my ancestors loved flying planes. I studied his work a lot when I trained myself to fly.” </p><p>“You should go do a heist in space!” Selena flopped over, spreading her arms out wide. “I bet there’s all kinda treasure out there!”</p><p>“Mm, but if your daddy does a heist,” Carmelita grinned, “I’ll just go chase him down, put him in jail.”</p><p>“No, mama!” Selena sat up. “You’re not a bad cop! You’d never put daddy away!”</p><p>“Sweetheart,” Sly reached over to ruffle his daughter’s hair, “your mama wasn’t ever a bad cop.”</p><p>“But then why did you ever wanna put daddy away?” Carson asked, turning to look at his mom. </p><p>“Well,” Carmelita set aside her reading glasses, reclining a bit on the bed until she and Sly were touching shoulders amongst all the pillows. “I was raised by other cops. I thought all cops were good, so all criminals were bad. It didn’t matter to me, back then, if what they were doing helped people. To me, they were still thieves, and thieves were bad people.” She smiled warmly at Sly. “But then, I got to know your daddy really well, and I thought that maybe, I was wrong. Maybe that stuff wasn’t all black and white like I thought.”</p><p>“Your mama is a good cop,” Sly said, nuzzling Carmelita and making her purr. “She always put the real bad guys behind bars.”</p><p>“You guys are so lovey dovey, it’s gross,” Carson frowned. </p><p>Selena stuck her tongue out. “Yucky! I’m never gonna have a boyfriend, ever!”</p><p>Carmelita chuckled. “All right, you two. Shall we have some dinner? We watch a movie while we eat, since daddy’s not feeling well.”</p><p>“Yeah!” The twins leaped off the bed, with Carmelita following. </p><p>Sly made sure the paperwork was all in one piece, and safely on Carmelita’s desk, before he followed his family into the next room. </p><p>~</p><p>“They really knocked themselves out,” Sly observed, voice quiet in the dimly lit bedroom. </p><p>Carmelita shuffled her papers, staring down her nose at the scene and smiling affectionately. </p><p>Sly was lying on his side, head supported by two pillows. The twins were hugging each other, tails overlapping, as they slept on the edge of the pillow near him. Sly smiled back at his wife, pulling up the covers over their shoulders so they wouldn’t get cold. </p><p>“They look so innocent like this,” Carmelita affectionately wound her fingers through her daughter’s short tufts of blue hair. “It’s so crazy, to think they’ll be six come spring.”</p><p>“I know what you mean,” Sly mused. “I was supposed to inherit the Thevius Raccoonus when I was eight. To think that’s just two years away.” He sighed fondly. “They’re getting so big.”</p><p>“And they’re smart, too,” Carmelita chuckled. “Asking all the big questions about why and how things are.”</p><p>“I know,” Sly laughed softly. “I tell them to ask Bentley if they wanna get technical.”</p><p>Carmelita snorted, reaching over to turn off the light. “I think this can wait until tomorrow.” </p><p>“You can be my big spoon if you want,” Sly offered, grinning. </p><p>Carmelita rolled her eyes, but got out of bed and slipped in behind her husband. Sly gently rolled the kits forward without disturbing them and rubbed his cheek against Carmelita’s when she nestled in against his shoulder. </p><p>“I love you,” Carmelita pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Thanks for looking after them, even though you weren’t feeling well.”</p><p>“Dads don’t take days off,” Sly replied, settling his arms over Carmelita’s as they wrapped around his stomach, settling back into her embrace as her tail slid over his hip. “Besides, it’s my pleasure, as always. And, technically, not something you should ask me to do, or thank me for.”</p><p>“Fair enough,” Carmelita replied, sighing. “I’m so lucky.”</p><p>“Yes you are.”</p><p>Carmelita bit him with her canines. “Watch it, Cooper. You’re on thin ice.”</p><p>“Ooh, I’m so scared~”</p><p>“You know, I do still have my shock pistol…”</p><p>“All right, all right!”</p><p>They laughed softly together. Sly yawned, and Carmelita gently squeezed him. “You should get some sleep, Sly.”</p><p>“Feel like I’ve been sleeping…” Sly covered his mouth as he tried to talk through another yawn and failed. “...all day, but I’m still tired!”</p><p>“Fever will do that to you, love.” Carmelita reassured him. “Your body’s telling you what it needs. Just listen to it and relax.”</p><p>Sly hummed, pulling her arms tighter around him as he closed his eyes. “Bonne nuit, ma chérie.”</p><p>Carmelita embraced her husband as his breathing slowed, growing long and even. “Buenos noches, cariño,” she whispered into the dark.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Listen...I really like the idea of Sly being a dad. </p><p>Again with my Sly 4 AU. So I’m addicted...a bit. </p><p>There needs to be a separate Drabble collection just for those, methinks. </p><p>Supposedly, some stupid tax inspectors have to come to our house AT THE HEIGHT OF COVID CASES HERE, so y’know...hope my family doesn’t get covid. We’ve already had a close call once. Don’t need any more than that. </p><p>Also I have to clean my depression room...😭</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Indian Watermelon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is...basically like feederism lite, just fyi. Sorry.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What’s an “Indian watermelon”?” Carmelita asked. “You’ve got a few cans of it here.”</p><p>“Ooh,” Sly chittered, licking his lips. “They go great with honey! Pass me a can, chérie?” </p><p>Carmelita chuckled, tossing a can at her partner. “That’s the most excited you’ve been about food all week, cariño.”</p><p>“Are ya complainin?” Sly winked, tossing his partner a mischievous grin before pouring liberal amounts of honey into the now-open can, eyes wide and hungry as he prepared his treat. </p><p>“No, never.” Carmelita reassured him. “It’s just that you don’t usually get excited about fruit.”</p><p>“Hmph,” Murray chuckled, lifting a full crate with ease and storing it on the highest shelf. “He only came down here to snack, not to help.”</p><p>“Hey,” Sly flopped onto a cardboard box, leaning against the wall as he used a spoon to dig into his treat. “Technically, I’m recovering from a relapse. I shouldn’t be burning calories.”</p><p>“Funny how that only applies now,” Murray teased, a sparkle in his eye as he turned to his old friend, “and not when you were playing with the kids earlier.”</p><p>“To be fair, I’m probably going to get a cold from that water.” Sly shivered. “Serves me right, I suppose, but still.” He waved the can teasingly, going back for more. “Vitamin C.”</p><p>“I don’t think watermelons have vitamin C,” Carmelita said thoughtfully, deciding to sit cross-legged on the floor while she worked. “There’s several cans of this down here. What makes it so special?”</p><p>Murray grinned as he lifted a few heavy cases of soda and moved them over by Carmelita to sort. “I’m surprised you remember Indian watermelons at all, considering what happened the last time you ate one.”</p><p>“One…?” Carmelita frowned, turning to Sly. “You ate a whole watermelon?!”</p><p>Sly shrugged, licking honey from his lips. “I was actually ravenous for once, and I kinda wanted to see how they worked.”</p><p>“A couple years back,” Murray explained, “during our Indian job where we were dealing with Rajan, Bentley used Indian watermelons to put Rajan to sleep so he could steal his blueprints.”</p><p>Carmelita raised an eyebrow. “O...kay… so, eating a whole one...puts you to sleep?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Murray said. “Conks ya right out! I used to use em to counter my insomnia sometimes...anyway,” he cleared his throat, glancing back at his brother. “Sly, you oughta tell her.”</p><p>Sly grinned, pleased to have an audience as Carmelita turned around to listen, and put an entire spoonful of honey into his mouth before beginning. “It was just before we were gonna get our hands on the other half of the Clockwerk heart, and I was both hungry and curious, a terrible combination…”</p><p>~<br/>2004<br/>SOMEWHERE IN THE INDIAN JUNGLE<br/>COOPER GANG SAFEHOUSE<br/>5:45 PM</p><p>Sly was sat hunched over his hip bag in the corner of the safe house, cross-legged on the ground with a needle and thread in hand, patching up a tear that had resulted from his bag getting caught on a thorn in the canopy. Bentley was busy corresponding with the local crime ring that was going to be providing the Cherry Bomb 500, and Murray was making curry. </p><p>The raccoon winced, shaking his thumb as a rumble from his stomach upset his sewing. Come to think of it, he was slightly lightheaded and shaky, and he wondered if he’d had anything to eat today. Between running at a break-neck pace to keep up with Neyla and walking dynamite barrels for at least half an acre, he supposed he’d been working hard enough to deserve a break. “Hey, pal,” he said to Murray, sitting back and stretching, “how long til dinner time?”</p><p>“Bout half an hour,” Murray said distractedly without looking up, sprinkling spices over the pot. </p><p>“Half an hour?!” Sly groaned. “But I’m hungry now!”</p><p>“Can’t rush good cookin, Sly,” Murray said. “Why don’t you try some watermelon?”</p><p>Sly shrugged, pushing himself off the wall. He grabbed some honey from the counter and sat before the neatly split watermelon. </p><p>“Be careful, Sly,” Bentley warned, peering over his glasses at the raccoon, “that’s an Indian watermelon. You’ll get drowsy if you eat too much.”</p><p>“Y’know, I’m not sure how true that is,” Sly said thoughtfully. “I could afford to put it to the test.” He licked his lips, grabbing a fork and digging in. “I didn’t eat today...I’m starving!”</p><p>“Suit yourself,” Bentley shrugged. “They have a slightly drier consistency than European watermelons. That’s why it’s easier to eat them whole.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah, you’re right,” Sly contemplatively licked honey from the tunes of his fork. “I pretty much ate half already!”</p><p>“Holy shit, Sly,” Murray laughed in surprise, “it’s like you haven’t eaten for a week!”</p><p>“To be fair, I’m not really sure if he has,” Bentley said thoughtfully. “We spent a week trekking through the jungle...I know I certainly didn’t eat much then.”</p><p>“I guess so,” Murray said thoughtfully. “Least I’ve eaten since then, though.”</p><p>Bentley snorted. “Eyes are bigger than his stomach. He’ll give up eventually.”</p><p>~</p><p>“But you didn’t?” Carmelita asked, her eyes wide with shock. “You really ate a whole watermelon?” </p><p>Sly laughed at her incredulity. “Yes, I did!” He rested a hand against his stomach lazily, sighing wistfully. “I was so full, and the honey was so sweet…”</p><p>~</p><p>Sly muffled a burp, yawning. “You weren’t kidding, Bentley! I feel like I could sleep for days!”</p><p>“Sly, did you really eat that whole thing?!” Bentley pushed away from his computer, amazed. </p><p>“Yeah, somehow,” Sly rubbed his stomach, which felt warm and heavy and tight. “I ate so fast, I kinda feel a bit nauseous! Think I might lie down…” He got up slowly from the table, carefully making his way to the back of the hut where their bed rolls were laid out. </p><p>The thief found his and lay down, burying in his pillow as his stomach groaned, complaining at how quickly and how much he’d eaten. But it felt...good, in a way. He was sleepy, as the watermelon promised he’d be, and his stomach was heavy and rounded out. He rarely got to eat his fill before a job, so this was really a treat. </p><p>Sly closed his eyes, curling up as tightly as he could around his belly, and quickly fell asleep. </p><p>~</p><p>“But you know you could eat like that more often,” Carmelita soothed. “Especially now that you don’t have to run heists. Have you really never eaten that good since?!”</p><p>“Sure I have,” Sly dismissed, waving his hand. “You’ve seen me eat my weight in tacos and anchovy pizza!”</p><p>“Which is still gross, by the way,” Murray added. “It’s a sin to put fish on pizza.”</p><p>“You like pineapple on pizza,” Sly shuddered. “At least savory stuff goes with pizza.”</p><p>Carmelita sat back, looking distressed. Murray stood up. “I’m gonna go tell Bentley that we’re good down here,” he announced, climbing up the old stairs out of the cellar. </p><p>The fox looked up when she heard movement, and found her partner sitting before her. </p><p>“Carmelita?” Sly asked, taking her hand. “Are you okay, chérie?”</p><p>“Y-yeah, I’m sorry,” Carmelita rubbed at her eyes. “It was a pretty funny story. It just makes me feel guilty that I’m no good at spotting your relapses.”</p><p>Sly sighed. “I hide them really well, love. I’ve been dealing with this shit since I was a teenager. It took Bentley and Murray a year to figure out what I was going through, and they still don’t know the half of it, only what I let them see.” He looked at their joined hands. “I’m just glad Selena and Carson aren’t showing signs of it. You know that nothing that applies to me applies to anyone else. I wouldn’t want that for them. For anyone.”</p><p>Carmelita squeezed Sly’s hand. “You know,” she said playfully, “I don’t think Indian watermelons are so special.”</p><p>“No?” Sly smirked. “Wait’ll I tell Bentley.”</p><p>“Well, people thought turkey made you sleepy,” the vixen went on. “In America, they have this very silly holiday where they basically just celebrate eating a ton of food. So that was why they thought turkey made you sleepy, but it didn’t. It was just because they were eating so much, it made them sleepy.”</p><p>“I guess kinda like milk with babies, right?” Sly shrugged. “Anything’ll make ya sleepy if it’s comforting.”</p><p>“Right.” Carmelita smiled. “With that in mind...can I tempt you further?”</p><p>“I think you can,” Sly replied, leaning up to kiss her, “what did you have in mind?”</p><p>“Your story inspired me,” Carmelita beamed. “I’m gonna make curry for dinner tonight.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Some stupid food-kink lite shit I wrote bcs I wanted Sly to actually eat something for once, idk.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Days Gone By</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Dad?”</p><p>“What is it, Tesla?” Bentley didn’t look up from his computer. He was busy reconfiguring the security mainframe for the house, since he always worried whenever he had to leave Kennedy alone. </p><p>“I’m gonna go to the airfield, for flight training,” Tesla leaned against the doorway. She was short and stocky, her broad shoulders taking up a lot of space. She wasn’t like her mother in that way, being curvier with a thicker tail, but sometimes...her voice… “Uncle Sly promised he’d take me up in the old biplane.”</p><p>“All right,” Bentley pushed his glasses up his nose. “Make sure you’re home by dinner time.”</p><p>“Okay.” </p><p>Bentley expected to hear Tesla’s boots leaving the room, but when they didn’t, he stopped what he was doing and sighed, turning his wheelchair around. “What’s up, Tess?”</p><p>Tesla had her arms crossed over her chest, picking at the button on her overalls. “Today’s the day, isn’t it?” She asked without looking up. “The day mom left.”</p><p>Bentley felt a chill go down his spine, and he tapped his fingers restlessly against the buttons on his wheelchair. “Yes. It is.” His teeth were clenched; he tried not to think about the day Penelope walked out on him. On them. It made him both sad and angry, though anger had gotten more and more prominent as the years went on. Here Tesla was nineteen, well on her way to twenty. And Kennedy was eighteen now. His daughters were young women, strong and capable in so many ways, despite the hardship. </p><p>And Penelope wasn’t there to see it. Any of it. Bentley was surprised he could still be hurt by it, still regret the way things ended, even after all these years. It was terrible, the hold she had on him. </p><p>He started when he felt a furred hand on her shoulder, and he looked up into Tesla’s eyes, the same warm brown as her mother’s. Her fur was a beautiful deep teal, but she looked so much like Penelope, even down to the streak of blonde hair peeking out from underneath her backwards cap. She looked worried. “Dad? Are ya gonna be okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” Bentley mustered up a smile for his daughter, resting his hand over hers to take it away. “You go on out to the airfield. You don’t want to keep your Uncle Sly waiting. You know he hates that.”</p><p>Tesla rolled her eyes. “Patience is kinda his thing,” she replied smartly, letting her hand drop anyway. “‘Sides, I don’t have to go for another twenty minutes.” She smiled. “I wanted to check on you. You kinda throw yourself into your work this time of year. Kenny said she heard you up and about last night.”</p><p>Bentley bit his lip. Kennedy was often up late and rising early because of her medicine schedule. She also often suffered bouts of insomnia, and usually slept at odd hours. He’d forgotten that when he left his bedroom last night, unable to sleep, and had come in here. His eyes were dry, he realized. God, how long has he been sat here, staring at the screens? It must’ve been hours by now. He could probably use some food. </p><p>“Dad,” Tesla frowned. “Look...it’s okay if you’re having a rough time. I understand. What mom did…” A flash of anger flickered across her eyes like lightning. “It tore our family apart.” </p><p>Bentley had a thought, and it made his cold blood boil. “Did she try to contact you?”</p><p>Tesla confirmed his suspicions by nodding. “Uh huh. Digitally.” She pulled out her phone and began tapping away at it. “I saw it come in through the internal mail server. We don’t get spam, or anything, but I didn’t recognize the address.” She peered at it, nodding. “Yup. Here it is.”</p><p>“Can I see it?” Bentley asked, trying to will his tone to remain neutral. </p><p>Tesla shrugged. “Sure.” She handed her phone over to Bentley and then walked behind him so she could lean on his wheelchair and read over his shoulder. </p><p>“My dear children,” it read, “By now, you will be starting your adulthood, thinking about college or relationships. I wish you well. I’m sorry that your father and I couldn’t work out our differences. I love you. From, your mother.”</p><p>“That’s it?” Bentley muttered to himself. He checked the address line and seethed. “She sent it to Kennedy’s internal mail.”</p><p>“Uh huh.” Tesla stood up, stretching. “I’m not good with tech stuff like you and Ken, but I managed to intercept it, stop it from reaching her inbox.” </p><p>“That’s good,” Bentley said, giving his daughter her phone back. “She doesn’t need to know her mom sent her such a trite message.” He turned back to his computer. “I need to reconfigure the email. Tell Sly I’m changing the algorithm and I’ll get him a new program to install as soon as I can.” </p><p>“Okay.” Tesla’s voice was quiet. “I don’t understand. Why would she do that, after all this time?”</p><p>“Do what?” Bentley was distracted. </p><p>“Send a message. Seems a bit late.”</p><p>Bentley sighed. “That isn’t her first.” He took a deep breath, ready for Tesla’s temper to get the better of her. “There were others. For the first five years after she left, Penelope would write to us. To me. Sometimes, the letters were long. She’d update me on what was going on. She went back to Holland, you know. No one knows about her relation to the Cooper Gang there.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You have a half-brother, Lucas. He likes airplanes, just like you, Tess.” </p><p>Tesla was quiet for some time. “Why didn’t you tell us?”</p><p>“Because I never responded.” Bentley replied. “I was busy looking after you two. I didn’t need to know about Penelope’s life. I didn’t care. All I cared about was keeping you two alive and happy and safe.” He sighed. “I know I should’ve told you. You have a right to see your mom.” </p><p>“Maybe, but,” Tesla shifted on her feet, thinking. “Mom left cause of Kennedy, right? And cause of you. She thought you were broken and worthless.” When Bentley looked at his daughter, her eyes were shining with determined fire. “I don’t wanna talk to someone who thought my sister could be thrown away like trash, or who thought my dad wasn’t worth anything just because he’s in a wheelchair.” She snorted. “And Kennedy doesn’t deserve a mom like that.”</p><p>“Well said,” Bentley praised, impressed. Tesla was hard as nails, and rarely showed her own emotions. He was always surprised at how intelligent and perceptive his daughter was. He was so proud of her. </p><p>Tesla shrugged. “Thanks. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time.” She smiled crookedly at her dad. “I should probably go now. Take care of yourself, okay, dad?”</p><p>“I will.” Bentley smiled as Tesla kissed his cheek. “Like I said, be home for dinner!”</p><p>“Will do!” Tesla grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “Kenny’s sleeping. I checked before I came downstairs.” </p><p>“Okay. Thanks for letting me know.” </p><p>Tesla opened the door, smiling warmly. “Bye, dad. I love you.”</p><p>“I love you, too.” Bentley waved. “Be safe.”</p><p>“Always,” Tesla grinned and shut the door. </p><p>Bentley sighed. The house was quiet once more. </p><p>Once night fell, he might be reminded again of Penelope, the night she stood in the rain, begging him to listen to her. He didn’t absorb it, then. Tesla was still a baby, Kennedy was still in hospital. He never understood how Penelope could just leave all that, start over with another man. </p><p>With Tesla’s biological father. </p><p>Bentley shook his head, turning away from the door and heading back towards the kitchen. He’d make himself some lunch and then reconfigure the email servers. Penelope knew most of his tricks, unfortunately, but he still had a few up his sleeve. </p><p>He made himself a salad and then headed back to his computer. As he pulled all his programs up, he noticed he had a notification from the same encrypted email account as Penelope’s letter to the kids. </p><p>Bentley hovered his mouse over it, tempted to open it, tempted to know what she could possibly have to say to him after all these years. </p><p>But, in the end, he sent it straight to the trash bin. After all, he didn’t need to know what she had to say. She didn’t matter to him anymore. </p><p>He had all the family he needed.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Man...I had them Bentley Feels. And yup, this is my Sly 4 AU.</p><p>Also, in case you were wondering, I was nerdy but also lazy with Tesla and Kennedy's names! Tesla is named after Nikola Tesla, an inventor (like Bentley). Kennedy is named after the John F. Kennedy International Airport, so...planes...like Penelope. See how I said I was nerdy, but lazy? Yep.</p><p>I promise I'll write something outside of this universe real soon, lol. I know y'all are probably sick of it by now.</p><p>(Guess who wrote this instead of cleaning??? lol)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Wish You Were Here</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, as you may know, Carson is trans. Because Carson is a baby, his birth name and assigned pronouns are used. I'm not sure if this is the best way to handle this, so if you have a suggestion for how I can handle Carson pre-transition, please let me know! I would like to say that I mean no disrespect to the trans community, and I'm willing to fix the fic if it's necessary.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A cry broke the silence of the night. Sly could just pick it up on the edge of his sleep-drenched hearing, could hear the way one cry turned into two, rising steadily in volume as he awoke fully. They didn’t need a baby monitor, not really, with how good Sly’s hearing was and the nursery right across the hall. They had quite a few, anyway; security cameras in their own right. Safety, for two parents fully aware of the dangers of the world. They’d moved the nursery to the first floor, once they realized they were setting up their bedroom there. It made things easier, when the twins woke up for a nightly feeding, or, in an emergency, to grab them and run.</p><p>But that was not this night. Carmelita stirred as well, slower to wake, and Sly rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’ve got it, love,” he said softly. “Go back to sleep.”</p><p>Carmelita grunted, clearly not fully awake, and snored a few times before settling into deep slumber. Sly smiled, rising from the bed and slipping into his robe. His bare feet were quieter than slippers, and the cooler storms of spring were fading into the warmth of summer, anyway. Stretching the last of sleep from his bones, he padded across the hall, lifting the kits from their cribs. “Shh,” he soothed, voice low as he did his habitual checks to see what they needed. “It’s okay, it’s all right. I’ve got you.” Carlie was stinky and Selena needed to be fed. Sly held Selena against his shoulder and Carlie in his other arm as he walked to the kitchen. He set the kits, who had thankfully stopped wailing, onto the changing table in the living room and boiled a pot of water while he changed Carlie’s diaper. </p><p>Once the water was warm, Sly placed a bottle for Selena into the pot, testing it every few minutes against his wrist. When it was the correct temperature, he carefully held the bottle between his teeth and lifted the twins up, heading for the rocker by the picture window that looked out across the front yard.</p><p>Sly set Carlie down on his lap, swadling her in a blanket while he cradled the bottle in the crook of his neck so Selena could drink from it. Once Carlie was swaddled, Sly dragged his tail across his lap, holding Carlie securely, while he gently rocked, listening to Selena’s soft sighs as she suckled, eyes and mind trailing out across the lawn.</p><p>The moon was high and almost as bright as sunlight. On nights like this, Sly remembered his father and mother would take him out to play under the stars. They’d laugh, loud and unrestrained, kicking a ball around or tumbling in the grass. His father would run around with Sly clinging to his back, his mother’s careful hands showing him how to make daisy chains. Wistfully, Sly sighed. He wished, not for the first time, that his parents were alive to see their grandchildren. The twins could be bounced on his father’s knee, just as he had all those years ago. Carmelita and his mother would get on like a house on fire, both passionate and protective of their children.</p><p>Tears welled in Sly’s eyes as he reflected on those stolen moments, the unfairness of it all. But, he couldn’t say he wished for a different life. He’d never have met his brothers, and he would’ve never met Carmelita, and Selena and Carlie wouldn’t exist, and that was a tragedy he never wanted to think about.</p><p>Selena was almost finished with the bottle, her soft cooing letting him know she’d be going back to sleep soon. Carlie looked content enough, which was good. The night was still young, though, and babies had about as hard of a time sleeping as he did, it seemed. He smiled, bringing Selena up to his shoulder to burp her, twitching his tail to make Carlie smile, her tiny red-orange hands reaching out for her father’s tail. She looked so much like Carmelita, but her face shape was similar to his, while Selena had a rounder, sweeter face, even though she shared his species. A true Cooper through and through, though that wasn’t to say Carlie couldn’t play a role in the legacy. Time would tell what path the kits would take. It was too early to tell yet if one or both of them would take up the mantle of the Cooper name. </p><p>It wasn’t an easy mantle to bear. Sly would know.</p><p>Sly settled Selena back in the crook of his arm, smiling down at her, nuzzling her to make her giggle sleepily. “I love you,” he whispered. “I love you, petite-moi. Forever and always.” He lifted Carlie up carefully, nuzzling her, too. “I love you, petite-renarde,” he said, giggling as Carlie’s tiny hands grabbed onto his snout. “I love your curiosity, the way you make me laugh.” He turned back to Selena, who was sucking on her tail. “My brave little raton,” he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Sleep well. I’ll be here to protect you.”</p><p>It was a promise his parents couldn’t keep, but one Sly was determined to. He could, now. Clockwerk was destroyed, his old enemies in jail, himself safe and undercover, his friends finding a life of their own.</p><p>And his children, warm and safe and happy.</p><p>Sly carried the kits to bed, gently settling each of them in their cribs, kissing them both goodnight. As he spun their mobiles, watching sleepy eyes track the bright colors and little ears perk up at the gentle sounds, his heart felt full to bursting, and a sob settled in his throat. It wasn’t a sorrowful kind of cry, but one of relief and thankfulness.</p><p>He was so lucky to have gotten all this way, so lucky to have this. This home, this life, the ability to make these promises to his girls.</p><p>Sly stood in the doorway for a long time, until he could hear the kits’ breathing even out. Calm. Quiet. Peaceful. If he could pause this moment in time, he might stay here forever, watching these little miracles sleep. </p><p>“I love you,” he whispered. “For as long as I’m alive, I’ll protect you. You don’t have to be afraid. I’ll be there by your side as you grow.”</p><p>Maybe he wished his parents could see him now. But maybe it was enough that he’d made it this far.</p><p>Maybe what mattered was his children. Maybe that’s all he’d ever really wanted.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Listen to "Wish You Were Here" by Ninja Sex Party to get The Vibe.</p><p>Poor Sly. But at least he can keep his promises to his kits, right?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. For the Faint of Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WARNING FOR EMETROPHOBIA!!! Vomiting is mentioned, but not described in detail.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“-ly? Sly? SLY!” </p><p>The turtle’s first pounding on the table alerted Sly, and the raccoon shook himself. “Huh? Sorry, Bentley, I spaced out.” He knew he was the best pilot among the three of them, but that didn’t mean he had a strong enough stomach for it. He’d been trying not to eat, focusing on light meals, but even so...after the dogfight today…</p><p>“Sly?” Murray was leaning over into his space, and Sly grimaced, his first instinct to hide his pain from his empathic friend. Murray had always been good at spotting their low points, but his time with the Guru had given him almost a hypersensitivity to it. “Sly, you look really pale. Are you all right?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Sly mustered up a smile, even though he felt anything but all right. “Just, uh…” he swallowed, feeling shaky. “I’m...gonna go lie down, all right?”</p><p>Bentley, whose face had shifted quickly from frustration to concern, wheeled his chair around the table. “Yeah, that’s fine, Sly. You should rest up for the dogfight tomorrow.”</p><p>Oh, God, the dogfight. Sly wished his cane wasn’t all the way across the room as his vision began to blur. It was a good walking stick on short notice. Maybe if he could make it to the wall…</p><p>His stomach was turning just thinking about the planes, darting and weaving through the air like little toys… As soon as he’d landed the plane safely, he started puking his guts out right there in the grass. Odd, really; he didn’t think he had enough in his stomach to puke up in the first place. </p><p>He’d been so dizzy, his head pounding, that it was a miracle he made it back to the hanger. He’d just wanted to curl up and go to sleep, but of course, Bentley wanted to go over the plans. </p><p>He hadn’t meant to space out...gods, what a whump he was! His friends were doing all of this in the name of his family, for crying out loud! He had to be strong for them. He had to! He…</p><p>He wasn’t going to make it to the bedroom. </p><p>Sly’s last minutes of consciousness were spent mapping a route for the dogfight half heartedly in his head before he started to fall. </p><p>~</p><p>“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Murray hastily got out of his chair and ran across the room to catch Sly before the young raccoon could hit the floor. “Sly? It’s gonna be okay, buddy.”</p><p>Bentley wheeled his way over, checking Sly for any injuries. Even The Guru, his meditation disturbed, wandered over, silently gliding his Moonstone across Sly’s unconscious body. </p><p>“Well,” Bentley sighed in relief after checking for breath with his wrist, “he’s alive.” He glanced at his watch as he took Sly’s pulse. “A bit fast, but that’s to be expected.” He knew Sly’s average heart rate, and was aware it was a bit fast, even for someone as athletic as he was. His hypothesis was that Sly’s heart beat faster because he was underweight, forcing it to work twice as hard, even at rest. Of course, when was Sly ever truly at rest? Even in his sleep, he tossed and turned! </p><p>If this number was faster than that, well...it was likely because he’d fainted...but he’d monitor Sly for a few hours anyway, just in case. </p><p>“Bruises,” The Guru murmured in his heavily accented voice, sure claws pulling apart Sly’s fur as if he were grooming for insects. “There. Look. All purple, like a sunset.”</p><p>“It’s to be expected, with the way the biplane is built,” Bentley explained. “The gun has a lot of kickback. Sly knew that going in.”</p><p>“Sly also knew he’s our best pilot,” Murray pointed out. “‘Sides, those bruises look real dark and painful.” </p><p>The Guru kept tracing the bruises up and around Sly’s shoulders, and Bentley winced. The bruises were awfully deep, layered on top of each other in splotches of purple and blue, concentrated on the areas where the biplane’s safety belts would’ve dug into his skin. </p><p>“The plane was banged up real bad,” Murray looked up at Bentley, his eyes wet. “Sly was under intense fire, even after we tried to pit those two teams against each other.” He shifted his hold, cradling Sly against his body. The raccoon lay limp, completely helpless. “He’s so light,” the hippo murmured. “Bentley...has he been eating?”</p><p>“He must be!” Bentley argued. “He’d never go up in the biplane without food!”</p><p>“What if it set off his vertigo?” Murray asked. “He gets real sick when his head gets all funny. Hell, I got dizzy watching him up there today!”</p><p>The Guru frowned. “There is an imbalance in Sly’s center.” He stepped back and leaned on his staff. “An upset that has changed his aura.”</p><p>“What does that even mean?!” Bentley snapped. “Talk sense!”</p><p>“He means,” Murray interjected, gently shifting Sly around, “the center of the body. Something’s wrong with Sly internally.”</p><p>“Yes,” the Guru replied placidly. “I would like to prepare a tea for him for when he wakes.”</p><p>“Thank you, Guru,” Bentley smiled weakly. “Sorry I snapped, I…”</p><p>The Guru raised a hand. “You are worried for your friend. I can forgive rough language for that.” Then, he left, heading to the hotel room’s small kitchen. </p><p>“I’m gonna go put Sly in bed,” Murray said tiredly. “Don’t want ‘im to get cold.” </p><p>Bentley wheeled his chair in after Murray, watching the hippo tenderly tuck Sly into one of the beds. </p><p>“There ya go, pal,” Murray ran his hand through Sly’s hair, smiling sadly. “Rest up. Don’t push yourself so hard.”</p><p>“You know that’s not going to happen,” Bentley crossed his arms over his chest against the chill of the coming night. He’d have to turn his heated seat on in a minute. “Sly always overworks himself. Without fail.”</p><p>“I know,” Murray admitted. “I always wondered how much of that was ‘cause of his legacy ‘n how much of that was ‘cause of us.”</p><p>Bentley let out a whoosh of breath. He hated it when Murray’s Dreamtime insights made sense. “Damn it,” he scrubbed a hand down his face. “This Cooper Vault job is really draining me...I wanna solve it just as badly as Sly wants to see what’s inside.”</p><p>“After all this, it’d better be good,” Murray grumbled. </p><p>Bentley knew he wasn’t talking about the heist itself. </p><p>~</p><p>Sly awoke to a soft pink glow, and nearly jumped three feet off the bed when he noticed the Guru meditating at the foot of the bed. He groaned as his shoulder hit the head of the bed, carefully rubbing at the deep bruises that he hoped his gang hadn’t noticed. It was all a part of the job; he was used to being bruised. Hell, bruises, cracked ribs, sprained fingers and wrists, it was all part of the job. And a lasting reminder to do better next time. </p><p>The Guru’s sharp eyes found him in the near-dark, and Sly felt pinned under their stare. He marveled, not for the first time, at how this elderly koala had managed to see right through Murray and deem him worthy. </p><p>How he’d deemed them all worthy, really. </p><p>“You are feeling better now?” The Guru asked, tilting his head. </p><p>“Uh…” Sly gingerly rubbed his head. “Yeah…? I guess? To be honest, I don’t exactly remember falling asleep.” He felt better rested, but his body still ached, and, now that some time had passed, his stomach was reminding him that he’d gone to bed without supper. Apparently. But food just did not appeal...he’d wait until morning. </p><p>No...nope...that was too close to the dogfight. Maybe afterwards...dinner time? When did he have some time to himself again? He should’ve been listening to Bentley. </p><p>“You cannot help that you are off-center,” The Guru said, deep voice cutting through the dark like a knife. “Your world has been tilted again and again. You are losing what little control you had, and it is manifesting as physical ailments.”</p><p>Sly rubbed his temple. “Sorry, Guru, I don’t quite…”</p><p>“You fainted,” The Guru said simply. </p><p>Sly’s blood went cold. “I...I what?!” He scrambled to sit up, but his aching body protested and his vision swam again, so he reluctantly settled back down. “No...you can’t be serious..!” He groaned. “The guys are going to kill me.”</p><p>“On the contrary. It seems they are aware of your suffering, though, perhaps, not wise to all of the ways you hide it from them.” The Guru held up his pouch. “I am missing my mint leaves.” He smiled. </p><p>Sly blushed. “I...I was going to replace them, I promise. I’m sorry. I just…” he looked away shyly. “Look...I have a weak stomach, and when it comes to flying…” he shook his head. “I only took the leaves so they wouldn’t find out I’d thrown up after I landed…” he put his face in his hands, a tired sob settling at the base of his throat. “What am I even saying?! That’s not important! Oh god, I stole from my teammate…!”</p><p>Sly felt the koala’s lithe form crawl up the bed, and found himself face to face with the old man. The Guru looked as though he might slap him, but paused, pulling back instead. “No one is without their weaknesses,” he said. “The strongest mountain can break under pressure. Now,” he reached towards the dresser and lifted a clay mug in both hands, “I have prepared a drought. It is lacking in mint,” he playfully glared at Sly, “but it should still help. It is soothing and good for weak stomachs. Drink every last drop before you sleep again.”</p><p>Sly relaxed slightly, taking the mug. It smelled heavily of ginger, and his weak appetite stirred. The drought had the flavor of tea, but the consistency of broth. Sly took a long drink, feeling it settle heavily in his belly. He felt stronger already. “Thanks, Guru. I owe you some mint leaves.” His ears pricked as he heard the hotel room doors open, and watched the Guru reached for his staff, ready to wield it…</p><p>But it was only Bentley and Murray. Both teammates let out a sigh of relief. </p><p>“I shall tell your friends you are awake,” The Guru said, jumping off the bed. “I am sure they are eager to see you.”</p><p>Sly drank a few more sips of the broth, closing his eyes as he took in the various scents it brought with it. Ginger and herbs...thyme, maybe. Something spicy, and...licorice? Well, why question it if it was working? </p><p>The door burst open and Murray rushed over to the bed. Sly barely had time to set aside his drink before he was squeezed in a warm hug by his brother. </p><p>“Sly,” Murray dug his snout into Sly’s shoulder, and...wait...was he crying? “I was so scared...my Master said your center was upset!” He pulled back, holding Sly by his biceps firmly, wet eyes assessing him. “Are you all right? You’re all...bruised up, like a banana. I got scared you weren’t eating…”</p><p>Before Sly could respond, Bentley had taken his hand, checking his pulse, then squeezing it. “Thank god, your heart rate seems to be back to normal.” He looked away, ashamed. “I’m so sorry, Sly...I should’ve realized…”</p><p>“No! Bentley!” Sly rested his hand on top of Bentley’s. “Don’t apologize. I’m fine!”</p><p>“No you’re not!” Murray yelled, which was loud in the quiet room. “You fainted and you’re bruised and my Master said your aura is off…!”</p><p>“I got vertigo, I think,” Sly cut in quietly. “It’s the dogfight...I get so lightheaded and I feel very sick up in the air like that...I try to go up on as empty a stomach as I can bear...I dunno, I must be gettin old…” he ran a hand through his hair, chuckling nervously. It hurt to go hungry these days. Ever since he’d been starved half to death by the Contessa a year ago, when he noticed his hunger, or when he purposefully fasted, the pain was nearly unbearable. “I threw up once I landed, and then my head started to hurt…maybe I was dehydrated, I dunno. Guess my body was just waiting for the right time to give up on me.” Murray hugged Sly again, sobbing into his shoulder. The thief chattered soothingly, hugging Murray tightly. “Shh, big guy...it’s okay…”</p><p>Bentley sighed. “I should’ve never put you in that position as our only pilot, Sly. At least not without motion sickness pills.”</p><p>Sly tugged Bentley forward and the turtle carefully leaned out of his chair, embracing Sly tightly as well. “And...I should speak up, when I don’t feel well.” He chuckled. “I swear, I will eat so much Chinese food after this heist!” His stomach growled, and the three brothers laughed. </p><p>“Why wait?” Bentley asked. “If you’re hungry, you can eat now!”</p><p>Sly frowned, peering at Bentley’s watch. “Not with the first round at 9AM sharp.” He nodded to the nightstand. “The Guru’s drought is really doing wonders. I feel much better all ready.”</p><p>“Okay,” Murray scolded, “but I’m making you so much food, you won’t even be able to eat it all!”</p><p>Sly chuckled. “I’ll hold you to that, pal. A feast anyone’d be jealous of!”</p><p>“We’d better all get some sleep,” Bentley pointed out. “There’s a lot left to be done.”</p><p>Sly yawned, drinking the rest of the drought. “I hear that. I’m ready for bed.”</p><p>“I’ll get you an extra blanket, Sly,” Murray said, getting up from the bed. “Think I saw one in the closet.” </p><p>“I won’t need it if you’re sleeping with me tonight, big guy,” Sly chuckled. “I’ll be plenty warm with you around.” </p><p>“You sure?” Murray asked. </p><p>Sly nodded, patting the space beside him. “You’re better than most heating pads.” </p><p>Murray gave a watery smile. “Thanks, pal.” </p><p>“All right, all right,” Bentley rolled his eyes. “Seriously, we’re all going to be cranky tomorrow if we stay up any longer.”</p><p>“Speak for yourself!” Sly laughed, settling back against the pillows and pulling up his blankets. “I am a delight!”</p><p>Murray climbed into bed beside Sly, and the lithe raccoon snuggled in against his side. The bedroom darkened as they all settled down to sleep. But Murray was finding it hard to drift off, something that was very rare for him. </p><p>What if they lost Sly while he was doing something reckless? Sly was selfless to a fault, something a lot of people didn’t give him credit for. Sure, the vault was his family’s, but he’d never given any impression that he wanted it for himself. Bentley seemed more interested in the vault than Sly most days. </p><p>Murray looked down at his friend, breathing easy at rest tucked in beside him. He was taking up half the bed because of how close he was to Murray, and he was hogging the blankets, like usual. The hippo chuckled fondly, turning to look out the window at the bright moon. </p><p>Sly called them “thief moons;” bright and huge and dramatic. </p><p>What would happen at the end of this heist? Would the gang once again part ways? Murray wasn’t sure he wanted that. </p><p>He shimmied down the bed, rolling onto his side, finally deciding to get some sleep. More than anything, he wanted to reach out and cuddle Sly, but that would seem weird if his friend was asleep already. </p><p>As if able to hear him, Sly’s eyes opened, and he yawned hugely. Murray wrinkled his nose; Sly’s breath smelled like herbs and broth. “Gross,” he mumbled. “Brush your teeth!”</p><p>Sly giggled into the blankets to muffle the sound, since Bentley was already asleep and the Guru was outside in a meditative trance. “Sorry, pal. ‘S your Guru’s fault. It helped, though.”</p><p>“Good.” Murray sighed. “You really should tell us if you’re hurting, Sly.”</p><p>“Honestly, I thought I could handle it,” Sly shrugged. “Guess I’m not indestructible after all.”</p><p>“Well, we all know that,” Murray chuckled. “I’m the muscle here.”</p><p>Sly tilted his head at Murray, gaze soft. “You’re more than that, y’know. You’re the only one I trust at the wheel when things get sticky. You’re the best in the kitchen. You’re so good at reading all of us, it’s scary. And you’re better at it now that you’ve had some Dreamtime training.” He nuzzled Murray grinning. “You’re my best friend and my brother and I love you.”</p><p>Murray sniffled. “I love you, too.”</p><p>Sly shivered dramatically against Murray, and the hippo laughed softly. “I’m c-cold,” the raccoon accused, pretending his teeth were chattering. “You gotta s-snuggle me til I warm up.” </p><p>Murray rolled his eyes, but opened his arms, feeling at peace as Sly slotted himself against his chest. “Give yourself some credit in the emotional intelligence department,” he said, nuzzling Sly as the raccoon settled again. “You knew I needed a hug.”</p><p>“Nope, totally selfish,” Sly grinned. “I needed one, too.” </p><p>Murray snorted. “You’re so annoying.”</p><p>“Yeah, but I’m charming and handsome and sexy,” Sly returned, exaggerating a suave look. </p><p>Murray laughed loudly. </p><p>“Oh my god, get a room!” Bentley snarled. It wasn’t long, though, until he started laughing, too. </p><p>Needless to say, there was coffee at breakfast the next morning.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I’m soft for the gang cuddling, especially Sly and Murray for some reason. Their relationship in Sly 4 deserved better. (I mean...everyone deserved better in Sly 4, but y’know...)</p><p>Poor Sly. </p><p>Also, I’ve written the fainting fic that I must always write in my fandoms. You’re welcome.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. But It’s Christmas</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Can you guys do me a favor on this one? </p><p>Can you comment something you like about it? Even if it’s just a sentence? </p><p>Cause this is a fic that I really debated even posting, because I actually hate it. More details in my end notes, but...I think you’ll see. So, yeah, if you wanna boost my self esteem...I’d appreciate it. But I guess I’ll understand if you don’t want to, lol.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Carmelita shivered, pulling her jacket closed around her chest and zipping it up to her neck. Her flashlight barely even made a dent in the storage unit’s vast, echoing space, and she could see her breath in front of her face. She hated the fact that she couldn’t call anyone for help. She was all alone.</p><p>It was too cold to sleep, but that was good, anyway, because she didn’t even want to imagine the horrors that might fill her dreamscape after what the Contessa had done to her brain. She could still feel it, the invasive rays of the...what had Bentley called it? A Mind Shuffler. Yeah, that was pretty accurate. The machine made her feel like there were caterpillars in her brain, like the fuzzy ones she used to find in giant silk nests outside her childhood home, crawling around and eating away at her neurons bit by bit until…</p><p>Carmelita shuddered, curling her tail around her feet. Yeah, she...didn’t want to think about that. At least Sly had rescued her in time.</p><p>Ugh. As much as she hated to admit it, Sly had, technically, saved her, proving once again that he had a heart somewhere, for all of his really weird morality and the pride he seemed to exude when pulling off a heist or escaping her grasp one last time.</p><p>At least she could work on clearing her name...though she wasn’t even sure where to start.</p><p>The old clock tower above her head sang out an ancient, melancholy tune, and for a moment, Carmelita closed her eyes, trying to force her shivering body to relax. She needed to sleep, get her strength back. No doubt the Cooper Gang would make their move soon. She had to be ready.</p><p>As the chimes of the old clock tapered off, Carmelita’s sensitive ears were alerted to the sound of something falling over on a metal shelf. She got to her feet as fast as she could, her legs wobbly and arms shaky from long sessions of being strapped to that horrible medieval torture device the Contessa had pinned her to, like a dead butterfly under a taxidermist’s hands. She shone her flashlight around, and her sharp eyes spotted the black tip of a tail for just a fraction of a second.</p><p>“Hands up, Cooper!” She snarled, waving her light around to try to find the direction he’d ran off in. “You’ve got some fucking nerve showing up here after what you’ve done!” She shone the light out in front of her and jumped back against the wall.</p><p>Sly Cooper was standing there, his eyes slightly luminous in the glare of the flashlight. He looked to be in pretty bad shape, compared to his usual bravado. Carmelita knew from experience he was only really making his athletic feats look easy, but here was the proof that they took real effort. There was a suspiciously claw-shaped mark torn into his shirt on the left side, revealing crisp white bandages that were splotched with red, and he wheezed as he breathed heavily, indicating they were wrapped pretty tightly around his ribs. His tail was down between his legs, and he was leaning on his cane, keeping weight off of his right foot. A claw mark scar that was as uneven as tear tracts was just barely visible under the fur near his right eye, and his fur looked dirty and had uneven growth, especially around his scalp and the base of his neck. Of course; if the Contessa had tried to get into his head, too, he would’ve been hooked up to the Mind Shuffler just like her. </p><p>Blast. She couldn’t arrest him like this. It wouldn’t be a fair fight, and she was not about to put him through another prison transportation in his current state. She did owe him one, anyway. “What’re you doing here?” She accused instead, finding her anger coming easily now that she had the time to process what she was seeing. “Come to rub it in my face, or something? Huh?”</p><p>Sly’s body crumpled as he coughed hoarsely, leaning heavily on his cane. The bandages were really tight, Carmelita realized; they were restricting his breathing. Oh; broken ribs. Between the Contessa’s guards (maybe the wolves with their intimidating maces) and Rajan giving him quite the beating (she could only surmise, given the state of him when they were arrested), it made sense he would have some serious injuries. Caught between wanting to help him and wanting to think it was a ploy for sympathy, she wavered. It didn’t take long for him to find his breath, though his ears were slightly wilted, and he looked exhausted, like even coughing had tired him out. Why had he come here?!</p><p>Sly took a shallow breath, hand fisted in his shirt against his heart. “It’s...Christmas,” he wheezed.</p><p>“What?” Carmelita lowered her shock pistol a fraction, taking a step towards him. She knew by now that he’d never cause her serious harm, and he was clearly in no shape to pull a fast one on her. </p><p>“December 25th,” Sly elaborated. “It’s Christmas.” He nodded towards the high window, where a sliver of moonlight greeted her curious eyes. “Clock just struck midnight.”</p><p>“So, let me get this straight,” Carmelita began, suspicious and incredulous, “you...came here, clearly injured and in no state to run away from me...to wish me a Merry Christmas?!” If she was in an old Looney Toons cartoon, her jaw would’ve been on the floor, and her tongue would’ve rolled out like a red carpet.</p><p>Sly chuckled a few times, then groaned, pressing against his side. Yep, broken ribs. At least two, by her estimation, though maybe more. “No. Well, yes, but…” He raised his head, meeting her gaze. “You don’t have anywhere to go. You’re alone. And it’s cold and dark and you don’t have any supplies.”</p><p>“I can fend for myself!” The vixen growled, baring her teeth.</p><p>Sly ignored her. “And,” he added, twitching his ear, “Bentley found your police radio and tracked you down, so unless you wanna get real intimate with me real quick,” he smirked, “my gang will know if you arrest me and take me somewhere.”</p><p>Carmelita’s eyes flashed, and her anger reached a boiling point. “I don’t need your help!” She yelled. “The last thing I want is to be seen with you and your gang!” Even though Sly had helped her escape..but that wasn’t the point! And anyway, that was the least he could’ve done after what had happened between them in India.</p><p>Sly held up his hand in surrender. “I mean, I won’t force you to come, but it’s supposed to get below freezing tonight. And do you actually have any food or supplies?”</p><p>Carmelita flicked her tail in irritation.. “I didn’t have time to buy any before I had to run out of town. Not that it’s any of your business.”</p><p>“So?” Sly held out his hand. “Truce?”</p><p>Carmelita gave Sly a long, hard look. The young raccoon looked like he’d been through hell, and would’ve been at a severe disadvantage if any of the guards had caught him on his way to her. Even with Bentley in his ear, there was still a potential for further injury to occur. Sly had risked his health and safety to come help her.</p><p>Again.</p><p>The vixen left out a huff of breath. She wasn’t even going to acknowledge the warm feeling flowering in her chest that she’d felt since Russia two years ago. Nope, not going there. She was an officer of the law, and he was a thief, and there was never a chance in hell…</p><p>“Truce.” She shook his hand firmly.</p><p>Sly grinned, but he looked deeply relieved, as if he’d just escaped getting bitten by a rabid dog. “Cool. The Safe House isn’t far. Just follow my lead, okay?”</p><p>“As if you have any doubts at all I could keep up with you,” Carmelita rolled her eyes, watching as Sly carefully scaled an empty shelving unit almost soundlessly. She could only hear the faint click of his cane against the metal. In trying to climb up herself, she was neither as elegant or as quiet.</p><p>Sly was waiting for her at the top, holding open a skylight window and then following her through it. “Y’never know,” he shrugged. “You could’ve just been sprinting to catch up to me.”</p><p>“I should be entitled to shoot you with my pistol for that. Just once.”</p><p>“Nah, you wouldn’t. You’re a woman of honor.”</p><p>“Two shots.”</p><p>“Fine, fine, I’ll be quiet,” Sly groaned.</p><p>~</p><p>Carmelita realized immediately that Sly’s gang had mixed feelings about this arrangement.</p><p>Murray looked hesitantly excited, though he was vibrating with nerves. And Bentley looked like he would happily murder her in cold blood.</p><p>She couldn’t blame him. What was Sly’s deal? She couldn’t figure it out. Was he just concussed and not thinking straight?</p><p>The “Safe House” was more like a shack or a shed, probably what they could find on short notice. And Sly had been right; it wasn’t far from where she’d been holed up. Well, with the Contessa still in possession of the Eyes, it only made sense that they’d stay nearby, where they could keep an eye on things.</p><p>It honestly wasn’t much better than the storage unit, but at least it had a fireplace, and due to its size, the fire was really helping to keep the space warm. Bentley had the coveted close spot, but Carmelita wasn’t going to try to fight him for it. He was a reptile, she wasn’t that cruel...and she was outnumbered.</p><p>And Sly would be hurt if she hurt his brothers. She didn’t want to see the cheer fall from his face. </p><p>The tense standoff was broken by Sly’s hoarse coughing, and Bentley leaped into action. “Sly! You need to sit down before you pass out! Criminy!” Even though he was a little more than half the height of the lithe raccoon, the turtle helped Sly sit down at one of the chairs at the small table that was away from the smoke of the fireplace, pulling Sly’s shirt up. “Let me check your bandages…”</p><p>“Bentley!” Sly squirmed, trying to pull his shirt back down. “It’s not that bad! Stop!” But his protests were interlaced with giggles, and Carmelita smiled, her tail twitching. Was Sly ticklish? That was an entertaining thought.</p><p>“Hold still!” Bentley instructed. It was a playful tone, but held an inch of sharpness around the edges, and Sly fell still, wheezing and trying not to slouch in the wooden chair. Carmelita noticed that Sly’s belt was hanging lower at his hips, and she realized...oh.</p><p>The Contessa had kept them all on strict rations, but...Sly had been thrown into the spider’s “Hole,” a cast iron blast shelter meant to induce claustrophobia, surrounded by high walls and elite guards. Carmelita knew the prison pretty well, as she had visited criminals there in the past, and she knew the “Hole” was a last resort to get a confession. If it hadn’t been used humanely, there was no telling how long Sly had been in there, or even if he’d gotten any proper food.</p><p>Not that any of them had gotten proper food. Carmelita’s stomach growled, and she curled her tail around her legs, folding her arms over her chest. She didn’t want to interrupt.</p><p>“You aggravated your injury,” Bentley muttered, tsking. “Whaddid I say about that?”</p><p>“Not to go out, obviously,” Sly dismissed with a sigh. “But I had to, Bentley, you know that.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Murray said enthusiastically. “Cause no one deserves to be alone on Christmas!”</p><p>Carmelita tilted her head. Interesting. Her only company most Christmases was a bottle of wine and a good book. She was about to speak up when Bentley sighed.</p><p>“Guess you’re right.” He turned to Carmelita and offered a weak smile. “Welcome, Inspector. It’s not much, but it’s a roof over our heads, at least.”</p><p>“Don’t suppose there’s a chance you’ll let me bring you in tomorrow,” Carmelita tried to joke, her lips curling into a smile of sorts.</p><p>It didn’t convince Bentley. “Not a chance.”</p><p>“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Sly leaned forward, gritting his teeth against the pain, as he held out his hands. “Let’s all just get along. Carmelita agreed to a truce.”</p><p>“Good.” Murray gave Carmelita a hard look she didn’t even know the hippo was capable of. “Cause if she tried anything, I’d knock her out.”</p><p>It was a clear threat, and Carmelita, looking at Murray’s thick, muscular frame, believed it. “Yeah, of course,” she said. “Truce.” Her run across the rooftops with Sly had highlighted her own injuries. How had Sly done all that without passing out, she wondered, cautiously sitting in the chair next to Sly’s.</p><p>“Bentley, I can see you shivering,” Sly said gently, resting a hand on the turtle’s shoulder. “You should go sit by the fire. My bandages’ll keep for now.”</p><p>Bentley stood up, a bit unsteadily, and Sly reached to help him. “Okay,” Bentley said warily, “but you’ll let me know if it starts to hurt too much?”</p><p>“Cross my heart.” Sly smiled tiredly.</p><p>“Oh,” Murray said suddenly, “I forgot! I started making some food while you were gone, Sly. It’s not much, just a stew with a buncha stuff thrown in, but…”</p><p>“Really?” Carmelita asked before she could stop herself. “You guys are international thieves! Don’t you have, y’know...money tucked away somewhere?”</p><p>Three pairs of eyes swiveled towards her, and Carmelita felt really ashamed for letting her tongue override her brain. </p><p>“We only steal what we need to survive,” Sly began carefully. “Outside of a few larger heists...no, we aren’t sitting on a cash hoard.” He scoffed. “Can’t imagine where we’d keep it all, anyway.”</p><p>“And even if we did have stashes,” Bentley pointed out, “they’d be hidden in different locations, so that in case one was found, we’d have a backup elsewhere.”</p><p>“Right,” Carmelita said, suspecting there was some truth to Bentley’s statement.</p><p>“Yeah, most of it goes towards gear replacements and the van,” Murray scratched behind his head. “Sometimes hospital visits, stuff like that, but that’s really rare.” He cleared his throat. “Um...the food, then. I’ll just, uh…”</p><p>“Yeah, it smells good, Murray,” Sly licked his lips. “Bring on the Christmas cheer! Or something like that.” He shifted on the chair, half-slouching with one arm hooked over the back, tail swishing restlessly.</p><p>Carmelita sniffed. Honestly, the food did smell good, and beggars couldn’t be choosers. It was better than going hungry for the night. </p><p>She was surprised at the lack of chatter but, then again, what could be said? Not only had they been separated from each other, so companionable silence was likely welcome, they were in the presence of a cop. A cop on the run from the law, yes, but a cop nonetheless. And Carmelita didn’t really have anything to say, either. </p><p>Although…</p><p>The firelight caught shadows on Sly and Bentley’s faces. Hollow eyes, sharper cheekbones...they’d clearly suffered here. And Murray...Murray had been covered in bruises, knuckles bandaged and bleeding, and he looked...twitchy and haunted in a way she’d never seen him before. Murray was usually bombastic and outgoing. Now, he seemed..shyer, like he was holding himself back. She wondered what had happened, or even if she was allowed to ask.</p><p>Probably not. That seemed like private information. And she herself was not without her scars from the Contessa.</p><p>“--ur wrists?”</p><p>Carmelita looked up, realizing Bentley had been speaking to her. “My what?”</p><p>“Did you want me to have a look at your wrists?” Bentley repeated without a hint of impatience. His voice was at a lower volume, and Carmelita looked at him quizzically. Bentley gestured, and Carmelita turned her head to see that Sly had dozed off in the chair, chin against his chest, shallow breaths wheezing softly in the quiet room. The fire crackling was the only sound.</p><p>“Ummm…” Carmelita rubbed her wrists nervously. They felt sore and bruised, but they weren’t exactly her main concern.</p><p>“The manacles were pretty tight,” Bentley went on. “I can check for bruising or infection, if you like.”</p><p>“Why?” Carmelita asked dumbly. “Why would you want to help me?”</p><p>Bentley shrugged. “Sly wants to. He likes you, for some reason.” The turtle scoffed, but it seemed fond, like it was an age-old disagreement that had started to become funny as time passed. “Respects you. Thinks you’re a good cop.”</p><p>“High praise, coming from a thief,” Carmelita grumbled.</p><p>“You’d do well to recognize it should be.” Bentley replied, back to business. “Now. Shall I have a look?”</p><p>Carmelita lay her hands on the table and Bentley leaned across the short distance, cold fingers carefully lifting each hand. She could feel his breath on her fur as he examined her wrists like they were a problem to solve. Finally, satisfied, he sat back. “The damage is minimal, but you should bandage it up.” He made to stand up. “I’ve got a first aid kit in the bathroom. I can go and get it.”</p><p>“No, that’s...fine,” Carmelita said suddenly, getting up. “You, um...watch Sly. I’ll go. I need to freshen up, anyway.”</p><p>“Right, sure,” Bentley nodded. “It’s just out there, in the hallway. The first door on the left.”</p><p>Carmelita found the bathroom and closed the door behind her, sinking to the tile floor, heart pounding. She still didn’t know what had possessed her to agree to a truce, to come here and spend Christmas with Sly Cooper of all people! She could’ve arrested them, cleared her name, and been home in Paris by now! The problem was, she didn’t have the heart to do that.</p><p>She’d witnessed the Contessa’s horrors firsthand. She’d seen evidence of it on Sly and Murray. She felt sorry for them.</p><p>They weren’t going to trust her when she told them prison would be safe. Not to mention, they could be locked up with others they’d put away over the years. They didn’t stand a chance.</p><p>And when they got out, which they certainly would, she’d lose all good faith with them, which she needed a healthy dose of so she could get that close to them in the first place.</p><p>Carmelita scrubbed her hands down her face and groaned. This was going to be a long night.</p><p>~</p><p>After the harsh white lights of the bathroom, Carmelita was glad to return to the darker, warmer light of the main living area. The fresh, honey scent of the stew filled the room now, and Carmelita could see why. </p><p>A stew pot was sitting in the middle of the table and Sly, Bentley, and Murray were all filling their bowls with a ladle. There seemed to be more life now, the gang smiling and chatting loudly. </p><p>“Stop making me laugh!” Sly gasped, swatting at Murray. “My ribs still hurt!”</p><p>“Sorry, Sly,” Murray grinned, clearly not very sorry. </p><p>Carmelita approached slowly, realizing that there was a spare bowl and spoon out for her. </p><p>“Go on, Carmelita,” Sly smiled easily, relaxing in his chair. “It’s good.”</p><p>“Murray is an excellent cook,” Bentley praised, slurping a spoonful happily. </p><p>“Well, I do my best,” Murray demurred, clearly flattered. </p><p>Carmelita served herself some of the stew. It looked to be mostly vegetables, but that made sense, since Bentley was a turtle. It smelled flavorful regardless...and Carmelita was not picky in the best of times, anyway. </p><p>“We were just talking about other Christmases we’ve celebrated,” Murray told her. </p><p>Sly nodded. “Yeah, like that one time we shared our food with a colony of feral cats! That was fun.”</p><p>“Kinda made me sneeze, though,” Bentley admitted ruefully. “What about that time we dressed Murray up as Santa, and you and I were elves?”</p><p>“Yes! The orphanage!” Sly nodded enthusiastically, smile turning wistful. “The smiles on their faces...we really made Christmas for those kids.”</p><p>Carmelita was surprised. The gang clearly spent their holidays helping others. Maybe she shouldn’t be shocked, given their track record, but...it was teaching her a lot, breaking down what she thought she knew about them. Tomorrow, they’d be a cop and a gang of thieves again, but Carmelita could walk away with some respect for them, at least. </p><p>“What about you?” Sly asked, refilling his bowl. “What were your Christmases like as a kid?”</p><p>“Well,” Carmelita began, “I come from a family of cops. Mamá and papá were always working on Christmas, though one of the other of them would take off. Usually it was my mamá. My brother and I would wake her up and open presents, then we’d have hot cocoa and cookies and the sweets from our stockings for breakfast.” She smiled at her lap, remembering those simple days. “We’d watch old Christmas cartoons in Spanish on the TV, and play in the snow if there was any.” She chuckled. “Papá was stern and would make us wait until 6AM to open presents, but Luis and I would always open our stockings.”</p><p>“Hmph, sounds like the wardens,” Bentley snorted. </p><p>Carmelita tilted her head curiously. “Wardens? But there are no arrest records for your gang.”</p><p>Murray laughed loudly, and Sly gasped, holding his chest. “He means the owners of the orphanage,” the raccoon wagged his tail, rocking as he tried not to laugh. “They were quite the tyrants.” </p><p>“Oh,” The vixen flattened her ears. “Were they...really terrible?”</p><p>“Strict, mostly,” Murray reassured her. “Nothing too bad.”</p><p>“We were the terror of the orphanage,” Sly gingerly put his hands behind his head, grinning. “We had some good times. Lots of fun little pranks.”</p><p>“More stew?” Murray asked, tilting the ladle towards Carmelita.</p><p>“Thank you,” Carmelita filled her bowl once more. She didn’t feel too badly; Sly had filled his bowl at least three times, and his accomplices...friends...had taken seconds. “Like what?”</p><p>“Well, there was the Cookie Heist,” Bentley hummed. </p><p>“Oh yeah, that was a good one!” Sly leaned forward. “It all started late one night…”</p><p>~</p><p>Morning came sooner than Carmelita would’ve liked. The weak winter sun shone over her fur, piercing through her closed eyes. It was a reminder that last night’s truce was temporary, two sides once again at odds. </p><p>Carmelita sat up, rubbing her eyes, letting the borrowed blanket fall off her shoulders. She noticed a wrapped present in front of her. It was crudely put together, with brown paper and newspaper covering the box, but the ribbon on it was tied in a bow, beautifully placed in the center of the lid. </p><p>Confused, Carmelita unwrapped the box. What she saw inside made her smile. There was a warm, wool blanket nestled around a handwritten note. </p><p>“I, Sly Cooper, deny ever dancing with Inspector Fox at Rajan’s ball. I was actually nowhere near her during the heist. The photos were doctored by Constable Neyla to frame Inspector Fox.” </p><p>Carmelita sighed, wrapping the wool blanket around herself. “Well,” she said to herself, “time to get back to work.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So...I rushed this for Christmas, and yet couldn’t post it until after midnight. I really should’ve just let this one be. </p><p>I realized halfway through writing this fic that Carmelita wasn’t rescued until Prague part 2, so I literally went onto tumblr to yell at myself, realized halfway through that nobody reads my Sly fics anyway (it doesn’t really matter to me most days; I went from being in a semi-active fandom to one that’s almost dead, so it’s a bit of an adjustment lol), and when that didn’t make me feel better, I just...I dunno. </p><p>I think this fic had potential, but just shit itself in the second half. So feel free to roast me. I promise, I know it’s bad. </p><p>This is the fic that makes me so hesitant to write anymore Sly fics lol. Even though I know I probably will, I just actually hate myself for this one. So. </p><p>Hopefully, the next fic won’t be shit. That’s all I can say right now.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Omegaverse: Moonlight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So...I had a weird idea for omegaverse one time...and yeah, this is the result. Oopsie...? Don’t get mad if you don’t like it, just breeze on by.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sly didn’t know what he expected as far as being Carmelita’s omega went, but it wasn’t going how he thought it might. </p><p>Years of inadequate food and stress meant his heats had always been short and intense, his chances of getting pregnant incredibly low. He’d just feel miserable and, especially in recent years, lonely and missing his alpha. An alpha that had only recently officially claimed him. </p><p>He felt sorry for Bentley and Murray, who were always patient with him during his heat, and had protected him from other alphas in the rare times they’d had to work together with outsiders. And he certainly wasn’t about to forget his friends. </p><p>He wasn’t going to be one of those omegas, who dropped everything for their alphas. He’d never been that kind of person, and he wasn’t about to start now. </p><p>Sly rolled over in the bed, restless. Carmelita had been wildly protective, taking him under her wing immediately and becoming borderline aggressive defending him from the other cops and her mercenaries. It was amazing, almost, to watch her facade of cool slip away, just because of him. And that hadn’t stopped, ever since they realized that they wanted to be bonded. Sly wanted kits, of course he did. He was the last Cooper, it was practically his duty to continue the family line, and besides, now that he was basically retired…</p><p>Carmelita was feeding him well. He had everything he ever wanted; she’d get him anything he craved, even if it was a bit strange or hard to find. He felt unfairly spoiled, but, then, he knew he had to be healthier to bear kits. As it was, he was barely healthy enough. </p><p>And then...he fell pregnant. </p><p>Carmelita was more intense now. She never let him lift a finger, always anticipating his needs. It was nice to be lazy and rest after years of being on the run, of being constantly hungry and underfed, of wanting to stay that way to keep his heats as convenient as possible. But, being under such a watchful eye was slightly irritating. Sly was a free spirit, and he needed to be allowed to do things for himself every once in a while. </p><p>The baby kicked, turning in the womb, making him feel nauseous. She was restless, too. (And yes, he was sure it was a girl. He just had a feeling. He was sure she was a raccoon, too; sure he’d see the three-ringed tail when she was born.) Sly ran a hand down his belly, trying to soothe his daughter, calm her down so he could sleep. But it wasn’t working. They were both awake now. </p><p>Sly sighed heavily, turning his head to look out the window. The moon was big and round and bright, and the night air called to him. The raccoon smiled, carefully getting out of bed. </p><p>At six months pregnant, his belly was noticeable on his slender frame and heavier than he was used to carrying. Sly had to be careful, climbing hand over hand, foot over foot, up the side of the house and out onto the roof. He panted a little, not accustomed to the heavy weight of his child, and sat down on the rooftop, letting his legs fall open and his head fall back, listening to the rustling leaves and feeling the wind run through his hair. </p><p>The baby stilled inside him, and Sly felt a slow smile spread across his face. “Do you like that?” He purred, resting a hand just over his belly button, leaning back to let the moonlight fall over him. “Fresh air, the chill of the night?” He closed his eyes, breathing in deep, the fresh air filling his lungs. </p><p>He didn’t miss thieving itself, not necessarily. His lineage had been passed on to him. There was no choice; he was always going to be a thief. And it wasn’t something he hated, either. But he didn’t miss the danger, the hunger, the worry. What would the other criminals do if they found out Sly was an omega? No, he liked having an alpha, being safely claimed. He could smell Carmelita on him now, and that was more comforting than most things these days. </p><p>What he missed was this. The still of the night, the thrill of knowing you could move unseen if you chose, only seeing what was in front of you if the moon lit your way. </p><p>“It’s in your blood,” he mused, “isn’t it? You wanted this. To breathe this in. To feel it.” </p><p>He felt the baby move, just the slightest bit, and he imagined her turning her head up to face the moon. He moved his hand away, letting the silver light touch his belly, imagining she could feel it’s blessing. “You’re a Cooper through and through.” He smiled lazily, closing his eyes. He wasn’t tired, not really. Carmelita had him resting far too much these days. </p><p>She was scared he was going to lose the baby. He was only just healthy enough to bear kits, and it would strain his body even then. His lithe form had barely held 100 pounds before his pregnancy, and that was only after dutiful feeding and care from his alpha. Sly wasn’t used to it. Hunger had never felt like a punishment, but numbers on the scale sure did. </p><p>“You’re worth it, though,” he told her. The anxiety of seeing the numbers on the scale climb eased up when he went to ultrasounds, could finally see her forming inside his womb, knew the numbers were a life he was carrying. And that made it easier to eat, and to eat well, because of her. </p><p>He wondered if Bentley and Murray would like her. He’d find a way to see them. </p><p>“There’s a lot riding on you,” he went on, tilting his snout up to the moon, breathing in the fresh air. “But you have a chance, now. A better chance than I ever had. You’ll grow up safe and loved, with two parents who adore you.” He spared a moment to think of his lonely childhood. Only thoughts of reclaiming his birthright felt like the parents he missed. His daughter wouldn’t need a dusty old book to feel loved. He was going to make sure of that. </p><p>“Sly?”</p><p>The raccoon turned, seeing his lovely alpha climb up onto the roof. She looked as beautiful as ever, disheveled from sleep, her orange fur glowing in the blue night. He smiled adoringly at her. Even if they weren’t currently...what they were...he’d still love her with the deepest passion. He loved her because she was his alpha, yes, but there was so much more depth to his affections than that. </p><p>“I wondered where you’d gone,” Carmelita sat beside him, her knees curled to her chest. “You okay, ringtail?”</p><p>Sly nuzzled her. A word that used to be an insult shouted on the wind had quickly turned into his favorite pet name. “Yeah, I’m great. The baby and I just needed some air.” He rested his head on her shoulder, sighing. “I was just thinking...I don’t miss thieving, but I do miss this. Moonlit nights and fresh air.”</p><p>“Mm,” Carmelita wrapped an arm around him, her warm hand soothingly rubbing his belly. The baby responded to her touch, as if asking to be pet. “Heh. This baby is just as hungry for attention as you are.”</p><p>“Of course she is,” Sly grinned. “She’s mine.”</p><p>“We can do this more often,” Carmelita said thoughtfully. “Go out at night and enjoy it.” She looked away. “I...I’m sorry, I’ve sorta made you a shut-in with how protective I’ve been.” </p><p>“‘S okay,” Sly replied, licking her cheek affectionately. “I’d appreciate a little bit more freedom, but I understand the alpha instincts.”</p><p>“Just don’t run where I can’t find you,” Carmelita teased, nipping him. </p><p>Sly giggled. “I’m hardly in any shape to run heavily pregnant.” He yawned, nuzzling against her. “And I could never run far from my alpha. Don’t want to.”</p><p>Carmelita licked his forehead soothingly. “You should have your freedom. It’ll be better for the baby of her daddy isn’t miserable.” She smiled, holding him close. “And then, I get to cook more food for you.”</p><p>Sly chuckled softly. “Not gonna lie, I could use a 3AM snack.” His stomach rumbled. “Being pregnant is hard work!”</p><p>Carmelita kissed him. “That can be arranged. Something sweet, maybe?”</p><p>“A cinnamon roll?” Sly asked hopefully. </p><p>Carmelita smiled. “Anything for you, my love.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>...eh...? Idk.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Cold Comforts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The door of the cabin slammed open and then shut again. A sneeze sounded from the doorway, followed by the clink of metal on wood. </p><p>Murray turned from where he was warming his freezing hands by the fire to see Sly, completely drenched and shivering in the doorway. “Yikes,” the hippo tsked, grabbing a blanket and quickly draping it around Sly’s lithe frame, pulling him close to the fire. “What happened to you?”</p><p>“F-f-f-fell off a wall h-h-hook,” Sly explained between chattering teeth. “F-f-f-freezing water.”</p><p>Murray winced in sympathy, commandeering some couch cushions and placing them on the floor so Sly could sit as close as possible to the flames. “That’s rough, buddy.”</p><p>“F-f-fingers too cold,” Sly agreed, shivering madly and pulling the blanket around him. “Need a b-b-bath.”</p><p>“Bentley’s used up most of the hot water, I think,” Murray said apologetically. “Here. Take off your clothes, and I’ll get you something dry while you towel off.”</p><p>Sly nodded, letting the wet blanket slip from his shoulders. While he undid his light bomber jacket and removed his scarf, Murray replaced the damp blanket with a dry one, retrieved some towels from the hall closet, and took the wet things away. </p><p>On a whim, he hunted awkwardly with one hand through Sly’s suitcase, pulling out a sweatshirt and sweatpants, both from a French university from the looks of things. One of their permanent safe houses was in Paris near one of the university’s housing units, so it was always useful to have some university gear around. Murray popped the sweatshirt and sweatpants in the dryer with a dry blanket and hung up the wet clothes before checking on Bentley.</p><p>At Murray’s knock, Bentley roused himself from the warm water. “Is Sly back?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Murray said. “You still got your warm clothes?” </p><p>“I’ll manage. Thanks, Murray. You should go sit by the fire with Sly, warm up.”</p><p>“Okay. Call if you need anything.”</p><p>Murray didn’t return to Sly just yet, making his way back to the little laundry room to retrieve the goods. He was doing surprisingly well despite the fact that the cabin had no central heating. Well, he supposed, he hadn’t ever really stood still enough to let the cold seep in. </p><p>He returned to find Sly, completely naked, cuddling up to Bentley, who was also wearing a university sweatshirt. Sly’s tail was curled around Bentley’s shell; they were clearly huddling for warmth. </p><p>Murray tossed the blanket and clothes at Sly, whose usually sharp reflexes were obviously deadened from the cold. “Here. Put those on.”</p><p>Sly grinned upon realizing they were warm from the dryer. “Thanks, Murray,” he replied, passing the blanket to Bentley, who quickly burrowed inside. “You’re joining us, yeah?”</p><p>“Well,” Murray demurred, running through a mental checklist, “I should probably get some food going…”</p><p>“‘M too cold to think about food right now,” Sly mumbled, lost inside the sweatshirt. It had clearly been Murray’s at some point, judging by how much Sly was swimming in it, but the sweatpants definitely belonged to the raccoon; goofy jogger-type sweats in the type of heather grey you only see on university or sports team merch. “C’mon! Sit down for a bit! “I fell in freezing water! I deserve a cuddle!” The thief declared confidently. </p><p>Bentley collapsed in a fit of laughter against Sly, burrowing his nose into Sly’s shoulder. “I agree,” he said after a moment. “Murray, you’ve been on your feet all day. You should rest a bit.” He opened the blanket in dramatic, Dracula-esque fashion, allowing Sly ample room to duck under.</p><p>Murray rolled his eyes and, mindful of Sly’s twitching tail, carefully sat down on the cushions. His feet practically burned from standing for so long, and, admittedly, it was nice to feel Sly’s body heat against him. </p><p>The three brothers settled in under the warm blanket, listening to the crackling of the fire, when a strong, whipping wind buffeted the cabin and shook the panda of glass in the windows. </p><p>“Good thing you came in when you did, Sly,” Bentley said, checking the weather on his watch. “Looks like we’re gonna be snowed in for a few days.” </p><p>“Do we have rations for that long?” Sly asked, pulling Bentley into his lap and closer to Murray’s warmth. </p><p>“We should be fine,” Bentley said, carefully situating himself between Sly’s thighs, patting the raccoon’s ankle as Sly crossed his legs again. “Murray did the shopping rather recently, and we have a lot of non perishable stuff in the van.” </p><p>“Yeah, I made sure to overshop, just in case we were snowed in,” Murray explained, wrapping an arm around Sly’s shoulders. “Even if we snack a lot, we have enough for a week or so.” </p><p>Sly swatted at Murray, groaning. “Stop talking about food! I’m gonna get hungry!” He flopped against the hippo. “I’m already a bit lightheaded. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”</p><p>“That’s not good,” Bentley scolded, craning his neck to look at Sly. “You all right?”</p><p>Sly nodded. “Yeah, yeah, ‘m fine.”</p><p>Murray frowned. “I’ll get started on something, heat up one of the soups. Then I can get hot cocoa going.” He got to his feet with a grunt, shivering in the chilly air. </p><p>“Take a blanket!” Sly suggested, wrestling one from the pile underneath him. </p><p>“Did you drip on this?” Murray accused, wrapping himself in it nonetheless. “Am I gonna smell like wet garbage?”</p><p>“Hey! I showered yesterday, I’ll have you know!” Sly barked, pulling the blanket around his shoulders again. </p><p>“Uh huh, sure,” Murray teased. </p><p>~</p><p>Hot cocoa and soup were prepared in short order. The gang all had growling stomachs by now, their chilled bodies needing the warmth from a decent meal. </p><p>“Stay here, Bentley,” Sly platted the turtle’s shoulder as he got up. “I’m gonna help Murray with the drinks.” </p><p>“Okay,” Bentley agreed, sinking partially into his shell immediately at the lack of his friend’s warmth. </p><p>Sly got up, stretching, and headed to the kitchen, wordlessly taking the kids of cocoa as Murray fished out the soup. It wasn’t the fanciest cocoa ever made, but it was warm, at least. </p><p>Bentley gulped half of his down before Sly could get back under the covers, sighing as the warm drink hit his belly. “Ahh...that’s wonderful.”</p><p>Sly took a more conservative sip of his cocoa, nodding in agreement. “Nice and rich...just how I like it.” He pulled the blanket aside as Murray carefully sat down while balancing the soup bowls, gleefully taking his to help Murray adjust his positioning. </p><p>The hippo lifted the soup to his lips and drank. “This isn’t bad.”</p><p>“Could use a bit of salt,” Sly mused, eagerly sipping his spoon back in for more. </p><p>Bentley snorted. “You think everything needs salt.”</p><p>“Yeah! And sometimes, I’m right!” </p><p>Murray laughed. “Like the one time you thought the salmon we were cooking wasn’t “salty enough” and you basically made it taste like jerky?”</p><p>“Hey,” Sly held up a finger. “In my defense...it was really good jerky.”</p><p>“He has a point,” Bentley agreed. </p><p>Murray rolled his eyes. “Nobody who thinks he can eat out of a dumpster belongs in the kitchen.”</p><p>“That’s a low blow, man,” Sly’s ears flattened, only to perk up again when Murray looked genuinely apologetic. “I’m joking, big guy. You’re the best cook, hands down.”</p><p>Murray blushed. “Thank you.” </p><p>The storm outside might’ve been fierce and angry, but inside, in front of the fire, it was warm and dry and full of love. And full bellies, too.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Requested by washingmachinekin on tumblr! I needed comfort after having a rough night, so I figured this was perfect! :D</p><p>Also, PLEASE go follow my new main blog, sylveonsylk! My other tumblr blog will be gone forever after my new PC comes.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Questions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Why does everybody assume we’re in some sort of…” Sly twirled one delicate wrist in the air above his head. “I dunno...polycule situation? It’s kinda ridiculous, if you ask me.”</p><p>Bentley raised an eyebrow, observing that Sly was currently sprawled over both his and Murray’s laps, the raccoon’s head pillowed on the hippo’s knees, his legs stretched over Bentley’s lap, tail flopped over his hips. “You’ve...gotta be joking. Do you even hear yourself right now?”</p><p>“Oh my God,” Murray giggled, “Sly’s food-drunk!”</p><p>“Am not!” Sly sleepily accused, yawning, which didn’t exactly help his case. “Seriously! I wanna know! We’re pretty much siblings.” He wrinkled his nose. “Every time I see someone making assumptions, it makes me feel gross. It’s like we can’t even be affectionate without someone taking it the wrong way!”</p><p>“We’ve used it to our advantage before,” Bentley pointed out, resting his chin on his hand as he watched Murray run his big hand through Sly’s close-cropped hair. “Pretending to be one or the other’s date, ‘n such.”</p><p>“Yeah, but like,” Sly shifted a bit, tail twitching as he tried to get comfortable again, “I just wish...I dunno.”</p><p>“Are you worried about being seen as gay?” Murray asked worriedly. It was a sensitive subject for him; he wanted to know if Sly was on the same page. </p><p>Sly snorted. “Psht, nah! I’m comfortable in my sexuality. Let ‘em think what they want.” He stretched awkwardly with a grunt as Murray let out an audible sigh of relief. “I just wish...y’know. That we could show affection without it being weird.”</p><p>“Society is very strange,” Bentley mused, prodding at Sly’s foot to get it out of the edge of his shell. (It wouldn’t be pleasant for either party to get any toes trapped in there.) “Men aren’t supposed to show affection and women are expected to.”</p><p>“That’s true,” Murray said thoughtfully. “Wonder if that’ll change anytime soon.”</p><p>The three brothers were quiet. So was Paris. The sub would be rising in a few hours, which meant it was almost time for them to get some sleep. </p><p>Sly muffled a burp and yawned again. “Do we have any fried rice left?”</p><p>“Really?!” Murray laughed loudly, poking Sly’s belly. “I swear, you ate enough fried rice for a small family!”</p><p>Sly flinched, ticklish, and half-heartedly swatted Murray’s hand away. “Hey, I’m hungry! It’s not exactly easy to scale lamp posts and jump across buildings!” </p><p>“Oh, I wasn’t sayin it’s not, pal,” Murray backtracked shyly. “I forgot; you had, like, two apple slices before we started the heist.”</p><p>“It was enough to keep me from falling off a roof,” Sly admitted, sliding a hand down his chest to his stomach, which rumbled softly on cue. “Just...I need some serious fuel after a few hours of that.”</p><p>“Go polish it off,” Bentley shoved Sly’s hip. “It’s raccoon food, anyway. If you’re still hungry, we’ve got leftovers in the fridge.”</p><p>“Ugh, I could eat my way through Paris,” Sly complained. “Can we get crepes for breakfast?”</p><p>“Ooh, I know a place that delivers, if you can go pick it up from our drop off,” Murray beamed. “They make really good, fluffy crepes. Savory ones, too.” </p><p>“I’ve never had a savory crepe I liked.” Bentley mused. “I’ll take berry compote any day.” </p><p>“Sounds promising,” Sly mused. “Ugh...I’ll never get to sleep now! I’ll just be thinkin ‘bout crepes.” He finally rolled off of their laps and to his feet, stretching until his leg twitched. “Gonna go stuff my face with the rest of that fried rice and drink some water.”</p><p>“Good idea,” Bentley replied. “The water will help expand the rice in your stomach and make you feel fuller.”</p><p>“Mm,” Sly wandered off to the kitchen and returned with the greasy takeout box and a pair of chopsticks. “I need a straight week of three meals a day...I’m starting to shake randomly and my memory is god-awful.”</p><p>“Yeah, I haven’t cooked or baked in an age,” Murray mourned. “I wanna bake tomorrow...wonder if we have stuff for cookies.”</p><p>“Oohh!” Sly wagged his tail. “Snickerdoodles? I’d kill a man for your snickerdoodles.”</p><p>“If we’ve got the supplies, then sure,” Murray grinned, getting up with a grunt. “I’m heading to bed.”</p><p>“Can we all sleep together?” Sly half-whined. “My room’s cold, and I miss you guys.”</p><p>“I’m not opposed to it,” Bentley got up as well, wrapping an arm around Murray and nuzzling into his warmth. “I’ve left a couple security programs going in my room, and it’s keeping me up at night.”</p><p>“I’ve got the biggest bed, anyway,” Murray conceded. </p><p>“Sorry, big guy,” Sly wolfed down the rest of the rice and sprinted to join them, colliding into Murray’s side. “Didn’t meant to steal your bed.”</p><p>“I could use it, actually,” Murray scratched his head. “We’ve been through a lot lately.”</p><p>“I second that.” Bentley nodded. “Let’s go to bed. We can talk more in the, well...I’d say morning, but…”</p><p>“Afternoon.” Sly grinned. “Just in time for lunch!”</p><p>“And they say I’m the bottomless pit,” Murray rolled his eyes. “What do you call your actual lunch, then? Second lunch?”</p><p>“Lunch Jr.? Lunch: The Sequel?” Bentley teased.</p><p>Sly groaned. “I swear, if you guys make me hungry, I will keep us up until nightfall.”</p><p>“Hey, you’re the one talking about food!” Murray laughed. </p><p>“Oh. You’re right.” Sly giggled. </p><p>Bentley rolled his eyes. “C’mon, you lovable idiots. Bedtime.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Based on this print from @platonic-prompts on tumblr: </p><p>A: “Why does everyone assume that we’re dating? C; *staring at A laying with their head in B’s lap* “Do you even hear yourself right now?”</p><p>It turned into food stuff because I’m hungry, and also...when is it ever NOT about food with me? Lol</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Please Eat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WARNING! This chapter contains content that may be triggering to those suffering from or with a history of eating disorders. PROCEED WITH CAUTION!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sly had too much on his mind. He couldn’t sleep; whenever he closed his eyes, nightmarish visions rose to the surface of his conscious mind. Visions of Clockwerk, memories of being imprisoned, thoughts of Carmelita and what had happened to her. She was strong...but no one could be strong forever. </p><p>Hell, Murray was the strongest guy he knew...and even he’d cracked under the Contessa’s mind control. What if Carmelita…?</p><p>Sly started as a bowl of beans and rice was pushed into his idle hands. He looked down at it, then back up at Bentley, who looked concerned. </p><p>“Please eat, Sly,” Bentley pleaded, voice gentle. “I know you’ve been avoiding it, but you’ll need the energy eventually. Might as well get it now.”</p><p>Sly blinked down at the food, his mind pulling him back to…</p><p>“Eat,” the Contessa teased in her Slavic accent, sliding the bowl towards him. It was gruel, or something, a few days old going by the smell. “Go on, Cooper. You must be hungry.”</p><p>Sly shifted, making the heavy iron chains jingle. He was tied to the floor by multiple sets of the heavy chains; his wrists, waist, ankles, and neck were all chained to a spot on the floor. He could move, but not much. It was humiliating. He turned his nose into his shoulder. He had smelled the raw spice before in India, and he could recognize that it was hidden in the food. He had seen its effects on the other inmates. He wasn’t going to let it affect him. </p><p>The Contessa tsked. “Are you seriously about to turn down a meal? It’s only been a few days. Do you think I’ll be so kind next time?”</p><p>Sly turned his nose up at the food, eyes glaring coldly at the Contessa. He wasn’t going to speak, give her the satisfaction. But...it was hard…</p><p>He was so hungry. His belly ached, so empty, he felt nauseous and shaky. The pain kept him from sleeping or even truly resting! All he could think about was food; in between thoughts of escape, of Bentley and Murray, his mind taunted him. </p><p>“Hmm,” the spider cocked her head, and Sly wanted to squash her underneath his boot. “If I’m not mistaken, that is your stomach complaining. You’d better listen to it. Your next meal won’t be for another week yet.”</p><p>Sly swallowed, and kept looking away, kept…</p><p>“Sly?” Murray’s voice came from next to him, and wow, when had that happened? “Sly? Are you okay?”</p><p>“Spice,” Sly gave Murray a wild look. “There’s spice in this! I can smell it!” He started shaking. “You’re...are you trying to poison me?! Make me lose control?!” He dropped the bowl and it fell to the ground in a clatter, contents spilling onto the dry earth. </p><p>“It’s curry spice,” Murray said. </p><p>Sly, looking frantic, snapped his head between the two of them. He was so panicked, he was barely seeing them. </p><p>“Look,” Murray said calmly, lifting his own bowl. “See? It’s safe. Here.” He went to take a spoonful, but found Sly gripping his wrist hard, eyes wide with terror. </p><p>“Murray...don’t,” Sly pleaded, voice high-pitched and tears streaming down his cheeks. “I can’t...I can’t go through just again. Seeing you like that, so...so angry...mindless…”</p><p>Now Murray looked worried. “Did I hurt you?” He demanded. “Sly, did I attack you while I was…like that?!”</p><p>His brother’s tone pulled Sly back into the moment a bit. “No...no, big guy...you didn’t mean to…”</p><p>“Did I hurt you?” Murray repeated, gaze serious as he locked eyes with Sly. </p><p>Sly swallowed, shaking his head. “No. You didn’t. I ran away before you could make contact.”</p><p>Murray hesitantly rested a hand on Sly’s arm. “I still hate that I ever got near enough to you...I wish I could remember…”</p><p>“The spice,” Bentley spoke up patiently, producing a bottle from the cooler at his feet. “Look. This is what you’re smelling.” </p><p>Sly released Murray’s arm and took the small jar, sniffing it curiously and reading out the worn ingredients list on the side. “Pepper flakes, cardamom...habanero oil…” He looked up at Bentley. “This is from Bollywood. I remember. The vendor tried to sell me tarot cards.”</p><p>“Yes,” Bentley smiled. “See? Completely safe.”</p><p>“Safe.” Sly’s shoulders lowered from around his ears and he sat down on the log they’d pulled up to the campfire, tail twitching weakly as he watched the flames. </p><p>Was he safe? It seemed like the answer to that should be no...but then, why did he feel so safe?</p><p>“Sly?” Bentley leaned forward to touch his knee. “You’re safe. It’s okay. We’re here.”</p><p>Murray bent down to retrieve the fallen bowl. “Most of this is still good,” he declared. “I’ve seen you eat worse.”</p><p>Eat. There was that word again. That command, that could get him in a lot of trouble. Eating was what had caused Murray to go temporarily insane. Eating was what made steel bars creak and ropes sag. Eating made him sleepy and warm...he should be cold and alert, first watch, ready to run at a moment’s notice…</p><p>Murray nudged the bowl into his hands. “Please eat, Sly. I’m worried about ya, buddy.”</p><p>“I’ve heard the practices of “the Hole” are not exactly humane,” Bentley added. </p><p>“Solitary of any kind of a lotta starvation,” Murray admitted. “‘S how I managed to ingest so much of that stuff, I think.” </p><p>“That makes sense,” Bentley agreed. </p><p>Was he hungry? Sly didn’t know anymore. At some point during the heist, his body had adjusted to working at a deficit. He just...he didn’t know if he could eat, if he was hungry enough…</p><p>He looked up to find Bentley and Murray engrossed in their meals. Sly sighed, ears wilting. He was tired. He was trembling. He…</p><p>Was that his stomach?</p><p>The gurgling was soft, but it sent a wave of dizziness straight to his head, and Sly rubbed his temple. Seeing his friends eating was stirring something in him. He wanted…</p><p>Sly hesitantly took a bite. The simple dish tasted amazing after days without food, and Sly grinned, taking another bite, and another. </p><p>Murray rubbed between his shoulder blades as he ate, and God, that felt good. It felt like praise. Sly chittered, leaning into Murray’s side. </p><p>Bentley smiled at him when he looked over, and that felt good to see. Sly smiled back and happily ate more. </p><p>He’d cleared his plate. When did that happen? </p><p>Sly tucked his tail between his legs. “I...look...um…”</p><p>“Good job, Sly,” Bentley praised. “Thank you.”</p><p>“Yeah, you should find sleep loads easier now,” Murray beamed, patting him on his shoulder. </p><p>Sly smiled. “Yeah. Thanks, I...I guess. I…”</p><p>Bentley hugged him. “Don’t scare me like that again,” he scolded through pained tears. </p><p>Sly hugged his brother back. “I...I won’t.” It was hard to stop the thoughts from buzzing in his head...but he could fight them. He would. </p><p>Murray nuzzled him, and Sly sunk into his side. “Love ya, pal.”</p><p>Sly nodded, smiling as he yawned.</p><p>There was peace in the world again. At least, for a little while, they could pretend that all that existed was them. Three little blips in the center of the universe.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I’m struggling with eating disorder shit tonight, boys.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Uninvited Guest (Part 1)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bentley didn’t have any idea what to expect when Inspector Fox turned up at their doorstep with Sly in tow. </p><p>“I believe this,” she easily held Sly up by the collar of his shirt, “belongs to you?”</p><p>“Sly!” Murray ran forward, practically ripping the limp raccoon from Carmelita’s grasp. “C’mon, it’s gonna be okay, buddy. Let’s get you an ice bath.”</p><p>Bentley looked over his shoulder to make sure Murray was going to be okay on his own for a minute and turned back to find himself face to face with a shock pistol. He swallowed nervously, the hand mostly hidden by the door sliding carefully towards the sleep darts he kept by the door. </p><p>“Freeze.” Carmelita ordered. Bentley stopped moving, but his hand was clasped around the dart. “Drop whatever it is you’re holding and let me inside.”</p><p>“Hold on,” Bentley narrowed his eyes at her, frowning. He might not be as intimidating as Murray or as quick on his feet as Sly, but he could hold his own in a battle of wits. “Sly’s seriously ill. You think I’m crazy enough to let you get one foot past this threshold?!”</p><p>Carmelita’s dark eyes hardened. “I’m not going to arrest you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”</p><p>“Then go.” Bentley replied, gripping the sleep dart hard in his hand. “If you don’t, I’ll throw this dart at you.”</p><p>“And if you don’t step aside, I’ll shoot.” Carmelita pointed out. “This pistol packs a punch, even set to taze.”</p><p>Bentley sighed, figuring he didn’t have much of a choice, but he wanted to check and make sure. Sly trusted Carmelita, and so far, she’d shown no indication of wanting to hurt them. But still. “Why are you so interested in Sly’s recovery?” </p><p>Carmelita lowered her shock pistol just a fraction, her eyes softening at the edges. Ah, there it was, the sincerity he was looking for. “Because he came to me,” she explained, her voice soft. </p><p>Bentley looked around to make sure no one was watching and then let Carmelita inside. </p><p>“So,” Carmelita set down her shock pistol and set her badge on a table nearby, “what’s going on? I’ve never seen Sly that sick before. He was talking so quickly and switching languages. I couldn’t understand it.”</p><p>“Sly speaks Ancient Greek when he hallucinates sometimes,” Bentley explained. “Murray and I don’t know much more of it than Sly does, though he’s almost fluent. At least, as fluent as you can be in a dead language.” He dropped the sleep dart into his crossbow’s carrying case and closed it up again. “Tea?”</p><p>“Thank you.” Carmelita hesitantly sat down at the small, worn table, listening to the distinct creaking of the chair beneath her weight. “Hallucinations? Is he all right?”</p><p>Bentley shrugged. “He’ll live. He’s had a high fever for a long time; we can’t get it to go down. I’ve been doing a lot of research, and I think he caught some weird flu strain during our travels.” He poured water from the kettle into three mugs, steeping a tea bag in each one. “How do you take it, inspector?”</p><p>“One sugar, please.” Carmelita frowned, resting her chin in her hand. “I don’t understand. Why come to me?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Bentley admitted. “I wouldn’t have left the window open if I thought he was strong enough to get out. He’s barely eaten anything for a week; we can barely get him to drink broth, and even then, he’s been so weak, we’ve had to have him slurp it through a straw.” He slid a mug towards Carmelita and took a sip of his own drink. “Did he say anything you could understand?” </p><p>“Something about roses and a lot about eros.” Carmelita slid her mug around on the table, staring into the murky drink. “At least he could sorta lead me here.” </p><p>Bentley looked stunned. </p><p>“Don’t worry,” Carmelita smirked, twitching her tail. “Let me know once he’s feeling a bit better and I’ll give you an hour to clear out.”</p><p>“Generous,” Bentley tilted his head. “And you didn’t just bring him in because…?”</p><p>Carmelita snorted. “I know you guys live on thief time, but it’s 3 in the goddamn morning, and some of us have normal sleep schedules. Besides,” she turned her head out towards the hall, wistfully staring after where Murray had carried Sly. “He wasn’t coherent. I couldn’t read him his rights. And I’m not going to put him in a cold, damp cell in his condition.” </p><p>There was a sudden splashing noise, followed by distressed raccoon noises and Murray’s booming voice trying frantically to calm the patient. </p><p>“Sly! Sly, it’s okay! It’s me!”</p><p>The panicked noises were getting louder, and Bentley and Carmelita were on their feet in an instant. </p><p>Sly’s thrashing had flooded the bathroom with lukewarm water. Murray had his hands against Sly’s chest, trying to hold him down, which only seemed to make Sly more panicked, his eyes wild. However, as soon as he set his eyes on Carmelita, something in him relaxed. </p><p>“Oh,” Sly said, voice hoarse from disuse. “‘Lita...you’re safe…”</p><p>“Course I am,” Carmelita purred, her voice gentle. Murray sat back to let Carmelita kneel by the tub. Sly was shivering, his wet fur clinging to his bones. The vixen gently ran her hand through Sly’s hair, noticing faint white strands, probably from stress. His lean body looked so delicate soaking wet like this. It didn’t help that his ribs were prominent, too. Bentley was right; he hadn’t had a decent meal in a while. </p><p>“Clockwerk,” Sly mumbled, trembling fingers running through the fluffy fur on her tail, “thought he...poison...gas…” </p><p>Carmelita frowned. “That was a long time ago.” She cupped his cheek in her palm, tilting his face up towards her. “Let’s get you out of the bath, yeah? Then we’ll get you into some warm clothes. Maybe I can get you to eat.”</p><p>Sly shook his head. “No food. Stomach’s swirly.”</p><p>“And have you tried eating? No?” Carmelita bodily lifted Sly out of the bath, passing the dripping raccoon to Murray, who had a towel ready. “You’re an idiot, ringtail. Of course your stomach’s going to feel awful if it’s only churning up acid!”</p><p>“Acid?” Sly’s eyes grew fearful. “No! No food. No acid.”</p><p>“Yes food.” Carmelita rolled her eyes, then looked up at Murray. “Dress him in something comfy, but not insulating.” She shouldered past them and headed towards the kitchen. </p><p>“W-wait!” Bentley ran after her. “What’re you doing?!”</p><p>“What does it look like?” Carmelita asked, her head deep in the pantry. “I’m making food!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. And We Break</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As soon as Sly closed the door to the safe house, he found himself tackled in a cold hug that held him tight.</p><p>“Sly! Thank God...you’re safe.” Bentley buried his face into Sly’s chest, tears falling down his cheeks. “I...I was so scared! I thought…!”</p><p>Sly embraced Bentley in return. His cold blooded brother was freezing even though the safe house was at a moderate temperature. “I’m okay,” Sly confirmed, nuzzling against Bentley’s cheek. “It took me a while without my cane and binocucom...I didn’t realize how much I relied on your GPS coordinates until now.” His voice was hoarse from disuse, and even the dim lights around the Contessa’s prison had hurt his sensitive eyes when he was so used to darkness. How good it felt to be in a place that smelled like home! When he spotted the (cleverly hidden) Cooper van, he rejoiced. </p><p>The brothers remained in a tight embrace for a long time, Sly’s body heat helping Bentley warm up. The slim thief was exhausted, eyelids drooping, wounds from his torture aching. His brother was still trembling, clearly distressed, and Sly understood. They hadn’t ever been separated before. It would feel like losing your family...again.</p><p>“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Sly murmured, running the pads of his fingers along the grooves of Bentley’s shell, tracing the lines and ridges and bumps that made up the pattern on its surface. He was glad he couldn’t see Bentley’s face; he was already imagining how broken and distressed his friend looked. He felt guilty that he’d been rendered so helpless so easily, that he’d dared to trust a policewoman because of...what? Lust? Intrigue? He’d stupidly put his friends at risk, and for what?! He’d been made a fool, and gotten his loved ones imprisoned and traumatized. Murray and Carmelita were still there…</p><p>“Sly, hey,” Bentley stepped away, his dark eyes filled with concern, resting a hand on Sly’s shoulder. The raccoon was trembling, tail lashing with anxiety, and his head was down, staring at his feet. Bentley took Sly’s hand and squeezed it, finally meeting bronze eyes that were swimming with unshed tears. “You didn’t deserve to go through all of that, either. The torture, the isolation...I can’t imagine how awful it must’ve been, how blind you felt without your cane.” He smiled. “I’m glad to have you back.”</p><p>Sly burst into tears, and Bentley hugged him again, gentle, whispering soothing words and rubbing his back. Of course he didn’t deserve torture...right? He was a thief, but...no one deserved cruelty. Well, at least Sly knew that everyone else deserved mercy...he was so hard on himself that, despite how much he hadn’t wanted to believe the horrible suggestions the Contessa made…</p><p>“Ignorant child, playing with the lives of your friends,” whispered the Contessa in his ear. “Selfish, thinking you can take all the glory. Too weak to save them. Too stupid to fail to see an obvious trap. So trusting. So easy to manipulate.”</p><p>Was all that true?</p><p>Sly curled his arms around himself, his tail hugging his legs as he cried. He was relieved to be here, with Bentley again, but things wouldn’t feel right until they had Murray back. </p><p>And then he was never going to be that stupid again.</p><p>Bentley tucked Sly against his chest, letting his brother cry. “It’s okay, Sly,” he whispered, hugging him tighter as he cried harder, “I’m here. It’s okay.”</p><p>And maybe, just maybe, Sly could believe that.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Listen... "Wait for It" from Hamilton is such a good Sly song...oops. </p><p>This is from a whump prompt, and I thought it fit post-Contessa's place pretty well. (Can you tell I love that part of Sly 2? So much Goodness.) Here's the prompt! https://missglumcakes-whump.tumblr.com/post/641028894613454848/i-im-sorry-you-had-to-go-through-all-that</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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